


"Look,"

by a_real_archaeopteryx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, F/F, F/M, Firefighter Cas, M/M, Ruby is not evil, Sometimes OOC, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Top Castiel, er nurse ruby, hella bisexual dean winchester, i just love ruby so much, jess is a huge bitch, kindergarten teacher dean, ok well kinda evil, trigger warning: child/domestic abuse, trigger warning: drug abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:29:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 55,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_real_archaeopteryx/pseuds/a_real_archaeopteryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things have finally started looking up for Dean, just as things might be falling apart for Sam. Jess, Sam's long time girlfriend, has just delivered the "we need a break" speech. Dean has a steady job and reliable friends for the first time in his life. The boys live in Boston, where Jo works for the local fire department and Ellen and Bobby run the Roadhouse, Singer's Auto Shop, and the mismatched family. Can the ever absent John still manage to cause trouble for his estranged sons?</p>
<p>Castiel Milton and Ruby Cortese, both recent transplants to the East Coast, are each trying to escape their own past. Have they run far enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first -real- attempt at fanfiction, so i appreciate your patience! 
> 
> i love me my firefighter/nurse/ems aus, so i decided to try my hand at one of my own :) so here you go, straight from the horses mouth. 
> 
> there are some brief mentions of past drug use and addiction, child abuse and domestic abuse. i promise, just like a sentence or two here and there. no graphic descriptions or real-time events. also, there is like 5 or 6 words of transphobia by family members, but again is past mentions and super duper short. i will include trigger warnings in the notes at the beginning of these chapters. 
> 
> let me know what you guys think!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first real attempt at fanfiction- please be nice! :p
> 
> As an EMT, i absolutely love my ems/hospital worker/firemen AU's. But i can never find enough, so here's one of my own, straight from the horses mouth!

          "Look, all I'm saying is that maybe you're taking this way too seriously. Come on, you're off the leash!" Dean winked, earning himself a rough shove. "For real, man. You stay here behind these books and you'll turn to dust."

          Sam buried his face in his hands and massaged his temples.  _Why did we decide to tell Dean he should move closer to home?_ Sam loved his brother. Looked up to him as a child. When Bobby had first brought up the idea of transplanting Dean closer to family, Sam felt almost guilty for not being the one to bring it up

Almost.

          Sam's life was cookie-cutter and he loved it. There were no more cramped cars or ratty motel rooms. He spent his nights out and drank pretentious wine and craft beer and was never afraid of what was waiting for him on the other side of his front door. He and his friends played golf and wore jeans without holes in the knees and a "bad night" was falling asleep in the library and bombing the poli-sci quiz that next da y.

          “Dean,” Sam sighed, head still in his hands. “Dean, I’m really not in the mood. For any of this. I had a long day at work and I-“

          “Again, taking yourself too seriously! You’re an intern, man. What do you do, coffee run for the boss? What the hell even makes you busy? You just got dumped, it’s Friday night, and Jo wants to see you! Quit pretending like you’re too high class to spend time with your family.”

          Sam stood up abruptly, pushing in his kitchen chair a little harder than he meant to.

          “I did NOT get dumped. We just…we…” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Jess and I just realized we were moving a little fast and figured that we would take some time. Only a little break. Normal couples do this all the time, it’s not a big deal.”

          Jess was Sam’s American dream. A beautiful blonde with a California tan and East Coast class, she was everything he had wanted in a girl ever since he could remember. She had actual parents to bring him home to, a mother who always insisted that he have second helpings and a father who shook his hand and even gave him the ‘break her heart/I’ll break your neck’ speech. She was going to college and had plans and a future, a future that Sam wanted to be a part of. It had been nearly two years that they had been together, and it really was just a little break. Just a hitch in the road. _Right?_

         “That’s a free man in my books,” Dean softened, staring up at his little brother. “Sammy, just give us one evening. It’s just a fair at the park! No one but me has seen you in forever and they all miss you, for some reason.” Another shove. _When the hell did little Sammy get so tall?_ “Besides, I want you to meet my coworkers!”

          Watching Dean beam with pride, Sam began to feel bad. He and his brother had had it rough growing up, but at least Sam had gotten out when he was eighteen. Dean was always in trouble, it seemed, but at least not enough trouble that he wasn’t able to get this student teaching job at the elementary school in the North End. He had somehow scraped together enough online and community college credits to get his associates and apparently decided that education was the place he wanted to be. Having been there all summer and now into September, it was the longest running job he’d ever had. Every day he came home with new stories about his kindergarten class.

_“He’s an honest man now, Sam,” Bobby had come to him in May. “He ain’t exactly a role model, but he’s worked hard and come out on top and we gotta support him. You don’t hafta move in with him or nothing, just be there for your brother.”_

_“I’ve always been around for Dean, he’s the one that blew up in my face about everything! He’s the one who didn’t want me to leave and go to college and get actual help and move on with my life,” Sam hadn’t even bothered to take the whine out of his tone._

_Bobby clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You’re doing great, kid. Teach that idjit brother of yours some of that resilience.” Standing up to leave, he had said over his shoulder “His plane lands Tuesday morning, wanna go with me to pick him up?” Sam had hit him on his way out with the couch cushion._

Dean was too loud, too fiery, too much everything. He brought home sleazy women and got into fights at bars. He hustled pool and flipped shady cars and worked “odd jobs” at dead end construction zones. He was practically the only thing Sam ever had, after Mom had died and with Dad always…away, but Sam still got the feeling that Dean never really opened up to him. Despite being raised in such cramped quarters, Sam felt like he barely knew his brother at all. The man who had shoplifted from corner stores just to feed him was a total stranger, and it made Sam uneasy.

          True to his word, however, Bobby had put him up in the spare bedroom at his place and it was there that he still lived. Bobby was a godsend, the only thing the two boys had to an actual father figure. He and their father went way back, both growing up in the same town of Lawrence, Kansas. Bobby had moved a few times before settling down here in Boston over a decade ago. Despite being a widower with no children of his own, he always had made sure to live in houses with enough bedrooms for Sam and Dean to stay. And Dean really had changed a lot. Sam was so pleasantly surprised to finally get to know his brother after twenty two years. He was still cocky and rude, but his tamer side was beginning to crack through. He wasn’t exactly a hit with all of Sam’s new friends, but he tried his best and (usually) knew when to leave well enough alone and give his little brother some space. Between the disastrous first meeting with Jess and the downright animosity with Brady, Sam’s best friend and roommate, Dean got the picture.

          “You win,” Sam threw his hands in the air in mock exasperation. “But I was planning on going down to the Commons tonight anyways, so you didn’t actually talk me into it!” Dean just laughed and Sam grinned in spite of himself. “You’re right, I do need a break. But let me change first, I don’t want to go in a suit.”

          “That’s my boy. I’ll wait for you, give you a ride back over.”

          The locks clicked in the front door, announcing the arrival of Brady. Sam straightened and tried to relax, prying his curled knuckles from off of the back of the wooden chair. The tension in the kitchen was not lost on his roommate, who gave Dean a stiff smile and made himself busy in the bathroom.

          “No, go on ahead. I’ll just take the T, it’s not far,” Sam gathered his books and papers from the table, trying to make as much noise as possible to drown out the conversation. Brady, to his credit, had the water running full blast in the bathroom in what could only be an attempt to do the same. 

           Dean was grateful as he squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “If I don’t see your ass in an hour or less, I’m sending Jo after you!”

           Sam laughed as he pushed his brother out the door.

           “He doesn’t have to leave every time I come home,” Brady was out of the bathroom and set his things down on the kitchen counter. “I can behave like a grown up. What’s his problem with me anyways?" Sam just shrugged as Brady continued “Have I ever even said anything to the guy? Come on Sam, you know me. I’m a nice guy.”

            “If I knew how my brother ticked, I would tell you. Trust me.”

 

* * *

 

          Forty five minutes later found Sam stepping onto the large grassy area of the Commons. Booths and tents lined the perimeter and there was a make-shift playground in the middle. Off to the side, a small stage with a banner boasted LIVE TALENT AFTER 9PM with a rep of the local radio station DJing in the meantime. The busiest stand by far belonged to one of the microbreweries in the area, advertising free samples of their newest lager. Sam had only just joined the line when he felt a tug on his shirt.

          “So I heard you and Jessica Moore split up?” A voice like salted caramel purred in his ear.

          “Bela! I didn’t see you there,” Sam grimaced. Bela Talbot, a classmate of Sam’s, was truly the stereotype of a Boston socialite; her honey blond hair was curled too perfectly, her red lipstick matched her acrylic nails, and Sam didn’t think he’d ever seen her without heels that matched her designer purses. It was only her posh accent that ruined it. “You always manage to sneak up on me somehow.”

          Bela just winked. Sam was incredibly aware that her hand was still at his lower back.  “So?”

          “Umm, yeah. Kinda.” Thankfully the line had moved forward and Sam was being handed a plastic cup of beer. Bela wrinkled her nose but accepted a beer as well.

          “So you’ll be around tonight, then?” Bela had removed her hand to hold her cup and navigate the crowd.

          Sam was stammering an answer when he caught sight of the big red Boston Fire Department tent, complete with ladder truck and even an ambulance off to the side. “I was actually meeting up with my friend Jo tonight,” he gestured towards the tent, and the blue-clad figures gathered around it.

          “Well, that certainly sounds…exciting,” Bela craned her neck to get a better look at the crew. “Is he tall, dark and handsome just like all my other dream men seem to be?”

          Sam flushed. “She’s the short one. Blonde,” Bela didn’t look too pleased about that. “Joanna and I grew up together.”

          “I see.” She was quiet. “Well, I’d better dash. I’ll catch up with you later, Sam,” Bela squeezed his arm before flouncing off, whipping out her phone. Sam gulped down the rest of the beer, crushing his empty cup into the nearby trash.

          Sam and Jo truly had grown up side by side, and they were close as siblings. Her mom Ellen owned the bar across the street from Bobby’s auto shop, and the two were very close. Sam had been busing tables and washing dishes at The Roadhouse since he could see over the counter. When Jo broke her leg at 12, Sam was the one who carried her back to Ellen. She had been with the fire department now for three years.

          “Hey, space cadet! Right behind you,” Dean had found him, and was towing a tall thin redhead who looked vaguely familiar. “This is my little brother Sammy.” Dean was clearly a little tipsy already, but the girl didn’t seem to mind.

          “Sam! Nice to meet you,” the girl ignored his hand and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace. _So she’s a hugger, then._ Sam tried not to laugh. “Holy crap, you’re so tall! Dean told me you were a law student, not Chewbacca!” She talked fast and loud but she had a demeanor that just pulled a person in. She was bright and bubbly and Sam was instantly put at ease. “My name is Charlie.”

          “Oh, you’re Charlie! I’ve heard lots about you,” Sam fell into stride with the pair.

          “Charlie teaches 8th grade,” Dean explained. “And she’s like, a genius. She does all of the tech and computer stuff for the school.”

          “That’s where I know you, I think you did some presentation for AmEx once?” Sam could recall a staff meeting about ‘Security and the Modern Consumer,’ and being comically surprised when the guest speaker was this girl in jeans and pink converse and a t shirt proclaiming ‘the fanfiction was better.’

          “Ehh,” Charlie waved her hand. “I moonlight as a tech consultant. Can’t afford my LARP addiction on a teacher’s salary.”

          This time Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “So, you’re one of those dorks who runs around the park with the tents and the beanbags?”

          Charlie scoffed, indignant. “ _Queen_ of those dorks, thank you very much. You seem to know quite a bit about the kingdom of Moondor, though!” She jabbed at his ribs playfully. Yeah, Sam liked this one.

          “Only because about half of my study group is also involved. It’s a nightmare trying to schedule library sessions around you guys. Peer reviews? Forget about it. Most of them can’t even be bothered to show up when the RenFest is in town.”

          “I’ll have to arrange a meeting among my subjects,” Charlie was the one laughing now. “Although it is very comforting to know where their loyalties truly lie.”

          Charlie and Dean were giving Sam a rundown of the game (Dean had been on several occasions- “Best handmaiden I’ve ever had!” Charlie exclaimed while Dean blushed) and begging him to join them as the group came up on the BFD tent. Sam could make out the individual people now, most of whom were at least familiar. He recognized the curly-haired man who was shifting nervously on his feet, absently scratching at the paramedic patch on his shoulder.  He was usually either found parked at a computer at the public library, or on a barstool at The Roadhouse. Jo seemed fond of him, though, and that made him likeable. Jo herself was standing by a corner of the table surrounded by another cluster of people. She was clearly on shift tonight: wearing her dark cargo pants with the wide reflective stripes, thick heavy boots, and her navy polo that read J HARVELLE above the pocket over her heart. She was leaning against the table casually, but her arms were crossed over her chest and she was frowning.

          “…four rounds of Epi! Didn’t even get a positive response to Narcan,” a short woman with long brown hair and tight jeans was shaking her head, her back to Sam.  

          “Whether or not we even would have at that point was a long shot. Who knows how long he had been down PTA?” An even shorter woman, this one blonde like Jo and also with her back turned to the newcomers, hadn’t even bothered to look up from her phone.

          “A whole hour, you guys worked him? If only family-” Jo looked up and noticed the eavesdroppers. “Sam! Glad you made it. I knew Dean would be able to talk you into coming out tonight.” She stepped forward to hug the brothers, parting the group around her. She turned to hug Charlie, too. _So everyone really is hanging out without me,_ Sam thought, guilt creeping up into the back of his mind. He shook the feeling away as Jo pulled the group she was talking to around to face them. “Guys, this is Meg,” the blonde winked before returning to her phone. There were traces of pink in her wavy hair and her matching pink lips were pouty. “You know Ash already,” Ash, with his mullet and cut-off jeans and biker vest, was another regular at The Roadhouse. “My crew I know you’ve met,” the three other fireman all nodded. “And this is Ruby,” the dark haired girl raised her eyes to Sam and _whoa._

          Ruby was gorgeous. Her eyes were dark brown like her hair, but in this light they glinted like deep red wine. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as she smiled up at him.

          “Meg like the Disney princess?” Charlie’s voice brought Sam back to reality.

          “Whatever you want me to be, sweetheart. You,” Meg glanced around the group. “…or anyone else.” Her voice was thick and sweet like spiced syrup. Charlie blushed right up to her flaming roots and took a step backward, nearly tripping over Dean.

          “Meg and Ruby work at Mass General, they’re nurses in the ER,” Jo seemed eager to gloss over Charlie’s discomfort. “Well, Ruby is. You’re finally on to Social Work, right Meg?”

          “Yep. Proud alumni of Boston College and over-glorified back scratcher, at your service,” Meg pretended to curtsy.

           “Sam here is at Boston College!” Dean clapped him on the back. Everyone’s eyes- _Ruby’s eyes_ \- were on him as he cleared his throat.

           “Uhh, right. I mean yeah. Yeah, I’m at BC. Law student. Third year,” for some reason, he just could not form complete sentences. “I’m an intern at American Express.” He winced. If anyone but Dean noticed the nervous edge to his blabbering, they didn’t say anything.

“         Maroon and gold,” Meg raised a fist sarcastically, “Go Eagles!”

          Tension eased as Ruby and Jo laughed. Sam tried very hard not to notice that Ruby’s eyes were back on him. Just as she had opened her mouth to speak, the loudspeaker crackled to life overhead.

          “ALL PARTICIPANTS IN THE RAFFLE AND SILET AUCTION, PLEASE SEND YOUR REPRESENTATIVES FORWARD NOW. IN THE MEANTIME, WE INVITE OUR GUESTS TO JOIN US FOR OUR DESSERT CONTEST IN THE…”

          “That’s my cue,” Jo sighed and picked up a large, cellophane wrapped basket on the table behind her. “As soon as the raffle is over, I’m free to go. Wanna meet for drinks later?”

          Meg and Ruby nodded in agreement. “Your mom’s place,” Ash called. “We’ll see you there?” Jo flashed them a quick thumbs up.

          “Ladies, gentlemen, Winchester’s,” Ash clapped his hands together, choosing not to see Dean showing him the finger. The brothers always got along very well with Ash, like another cousin that was just as much a part of their life as breathing air. “Who needs a ride?”

          Charlie, of course, wanted to ride with Dean in the Impala. Sam ended up in the back seat with the anxious paramedic, Chuck, and was definitely not bothered that Ruby had chosen to ride with Meg in Ash’s tiny Ford Ranger. He saw the two girls laughing as they squeezed in to the small bench seat of the cab with Ruby in the middle. He still wasn’t bothered as Ash threw an arm around the back of the seat, around Ruby. And he especially wasn’t bothered when Ash leaned over, apparently to whisper something into her dark shiny hair. Nope, Sam wasn’t bothered at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for the absolute worst written sex scene of your entire life :(

 

          The bar was crowded, but Ellen always managed to find a way to clear a table ‘for her kids.’ Between the music and the crowd by the pool tables, The Roadhouse was surprisingly intimate and strangely relaxing. Sam had done homework on these old tables, he remembered learning to cook pancakes on the stove in the kitchen and Ellen herself had taught him how to throw knives “just in case” using the older barstools as targets. Maybe it was the memories, maybe it was knowing that his Boston College friends would never be seen in a place like this, but The Roadhouse always felt like home to Sam. Drinking down his third beer of the night, Sam felt electric as he bumped knees with Ruby under the table. She sat across from him, beside Chuck. There was more than enough room for the whole group and more at their huge table towards the front of the bar, but they were all huddled in closely. Ash and Dean were arguing about poker, while Meg sipped a martini and Chuck swirled Hennessy around in his glass. Charlie, squished between the two, questioned them eagerly. Her fruity cocktail was left forgotten in front of her.

          “I don’t think I’ve met you before, Sam,” Ruby spoke quietly.

          “Busy with school,” Sam tried to sound nonchalant.

          “Law school, huh?” Her smile was mischievous as she tapped her fingers against the glass of her Rum&Coke.

          “Mmm. It’s not as interesting as what you do, I’m sure,” Sam didn’t really want to talk about law school right now. He didn’t want to hear about what Dean had been telling his new friends about Sam behind his back. He just knew that he wanted to be a part of it now. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that Dean had known this woman for a while now, and Sam more than anyone knew exactly how Dean operated with beautiful girls like Ruby. He told that voice to shut up.

          That devilish grin again. “Interesting is…one word for it.”

          Sam’s phone chimed.

**Brady Johnson: Where are you?**

          Sam hesitated before replying. Finally deciding that Brady would never come join him anyways, he typed back **The Roadhouse. Washington and Mass Ave.**

           **Brady Johnson: The south end?**

**Sam Winchester: Family owns the place.**

**Brady Johnson: The family that Bela says you went out tonight to see?**

          Well shit.

**Brady Johnson: Washington and Mass? We’ll see you soon. North End is dead tonight.**

          Double shit. ‘We’ sounded suspiciously like ‘Bela and I.’ He flipped his phone face down on the table and signaled to the waitress for another beer.

          “What?” Man, Dean could narrow in on Sam like a hawk.

          “Uhh, I think some friends of mine are going to come meet us here.”

          “The table’s big enough for at least four more,” Ash pointed out. Sam just grimaced as he took a big drink. Ruby was pulled into conversation with Chuck and Sam couldn’t find a break to cut in and ask her more about herself. He caught a break, though, when Ellen and her staff pushed the pool tables aside to open up the back of the bar as an impromptu dance floor. A little unsteady on his feet, Sam happily let himself be pulled over by Jo, who had promptly arrived from the fair just in time to grab the brothers by their sleeves and demand that they dance with her.

          If Sam was buzzed, then Dean was downright drunk. It was embarrassing, as always, to watch his brother fumble around and hit on any pair of tits that stayed still for longer than two seconds. Charlie, however, seemed to have decided to be the one to keep him in line for the evening. The two were currently half waltzing, half carrying each other, and Sam was relieved. He was steeling up his nerves when he heard his name across the bar.

          “Oh, Saa-aam! Sam Winchester!” Bela’s singsong voice somehow carried over the crowd and in spite of himself he got up to follow it. Brady, Bela, and April Kelly stood just inside the door, looking around warily. 

          “Hey, guys,” Sam waved over at them. Ellen caught his eye and dried her hands on a bar towel, but Sam shook his head no. She didn’t need to come meet these people, not yet. The trio hadn’t even noticed this exchange, still looking around at their new surroundings. Sam suddenly felt just a little bit embarrassed of the shabby wooden floors and chipped dart boards on the old brick walls.

          “Never been here before,” Brady was the first to speak up, eyeing the many pictures and posters hung up around the bar. Sam smiled out of a few of them, as did Dean, and his dad, and Bobby. Jo had mostly removed the humiliating ones, but it was still clear who the pictures contained. Sam hastily waved his friends over to the dance floor to keep them from recognizing this fact, and it appeared to have worked. His previous group was scattered enough that Sam didn’t feel the need to make introductions. Bela pulled him over to one of the high tables, where he took a seat between her and Brady. April took no time in pulling out her phone, snapping a picture of her three friends.

          “Cute!” She squealed, flashing the screen around for them all to see. Brady was still looking around the bar, his eyes falling on the dancers.

          “Man, I’ve got to remember this place,” he leaned over to Sam. “You know any of these girls?”

           Sam scanned the room. He did know most of the occupants. Ellen had developed quite the crowd of regulars, and their children had all grown up together. Krissy and Kate were waiting tables tonight, Josephine and Tracy were sitting at the bar with Garth, all waiting their turn at darts while Annie was currently the one taking aim.

          “Hook me up with any of them?” Brady hadn’t waited for Sam to answer before making his point clear.

          Sam chewed on his cheek, thinking carefully. On one hand, there wasn’t a single girl in the mix that he could imagine being a good fit for a guy like Brady. On the other, most of them were more than willing to bring home a warm body, as long as the stranger played his cards right. Sam found himself wishing Pamela was here, she would surely scare them off.

          “That one.” Sam followed his friend’s pointing finger and stiffened when he found the target.

           With her leather jacket slung over her chair back at their original booth, Ruby’s v-neck and tight jeans showed off an amazing body. She moved easily on her high heels, her arms flung around Meg and Chuck.

            “The blonde?” Sam feigned ignorance. Meg was a sight as well, in her silky tank top and visible lacy bra.

            “No. Well, maybe second choice.” Brady laughed. “No, the brunette. Come on, man, don’t tell me you don’t see her!”

            Sam said nothing, a fact Bela seemed to quickly pick up on. She leaned heavily against him and rested her hand on his thigh. “Clearly, Sam prefers blondes!” She shouted at Brady over the music. His savior came in the form of Charlie, who stumbled over to throw her arms around April.

            “Charlie Bradbury!” April giggled and returned the embrace. “Oh my god, it’s been too long!”

            Sam zoned out as the two women were explaining their connection, something about April’s little brother in Charlie’s class. He had lost sight of Ruby among the other dancers and his vision was beginning to cloud as the alcohol caught up with him. That, and Bela’s hand on his thigh was incredibly distracting. She had the other hand wrapped delicately around the stem of her wine glass (seriously, who orders red wine at a dive bar? If Krissy thought the order was weird, she certainly didn’t betray the thought)but had been leaning into Sam’s side all night. They had been flirting forever now, and he was a single man…for the time being. Jess would be furious if she found out he had slept with another woman during their break. _But would I be worried about that if it was Ruby with her hands on my-_

  
            “Uhh, Sam! Earth to Sam, hellooo!” Charlie was waving her hands across the table. “Yes, or no?”

            He blinked hard. “Re-repeat the question?” His table mates laughed at him and Bela squeezed his thigh, hard. _She does smell nice…_

“Drinks and dinner and movies, later this week sometime?”

            “Sounds great,” Sam tried to sound interested, but he had just caught sight of Ruby again. Sitting at the bar, sitting very close and in very deep discussion with some guy Sam had seen before, but couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Even as he watched, Meg pulled on her arm but Ruby waved her away with a few words, a serious look on her face. Meg appeared to drop the issue. After another few minutes, Ruby and the man got up and wasted no time at all strolling out the door. His only consolation was that Brady looked just as miffed as he was. Meg headed towards their table, arm in arm with Dean.

           Brady rose, sour-faced. “Sorry Sam, but I think I’m gonna hit the road. Probably won’t be home tonight, Rebecca has been blowing up my phone all day.” He thumbed through his wallet and threw down a couple of bills. “Consider your drinks on me this evening.”

          Sam just couldn’t stay mad at his roommate for too long. “I’ll buy next time. See you in the morning?”

          Brady nodded, and then leaned over Sam’s chair. “I will never forgive you if you don’t end up with Bela tonight.” Which earned him an elbow to the gut. Dean and Charlie were saying their goodbyes as well, and April had slipped away a while ago. It was just him and Bela at the table.

          If Sam had been just a little more drunk, he could have excused himself from the table and plead an early night. If Bela had had just one strong drink, he could nobly refuse her advances. But neither case was holding up right now, and his resolve was wavering. So naturally it was just about then that Krissy had come around with a small tray of shots.

          “A friend of yours wanted you two to have a round!” She exclaimed. She raised an eyebrow at Sam as she put the glasses down. “It’s been too long, Winchester. We all miss you.”

          “Spare me the lecture, Kris,” Sam really did feel bad. “I’ll make sure to come around more.”

          “Hear anything from your dad recently?”

          Bela perked up at this. Sam shot Krissy a death glare, his familial ties to the young girl evaporating.

          “Nothing more than Ellen and Bobby have, I’m sure. Thanks Krissy, we’ll be sure to get your attention if we need anything else.” Krissy gave him an apologetic smile and made herself busy with her other tables. The bar had cleared out considerably and the noise had died down.

          “Daddy issues, Sam?” Bela sat up straight with a sly smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a single thing about your dad.”

          “Tequila!” Sam lifted a shot glass and drained it. “Cheers, Bela!”

          “Now that I think about it, I haven’t heard anything about either of your parents. Or this ‘family’ who lives just a few streets away from the school.”

          Sam sighed “Bela, I’d much rather concentrate on us right now.”

          “I’ll drink to that,” She raised her glass in mock salute and shuddered as she downed it.

          The shots had definitely begun to work just a short while later. The lights and the music were lower, and Sam found himself leaning closer and closer to Bela until she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled their mouths together. Sam responded enthusiastically, gripping her hips and pulling her closer on the bench. Her hands wandered down his chest, pulling at his shirt collar and lifting up the hem to press her hands against his stomach. Sam tried to coax her mouth open with his tongue when she stopped him, breath catching. “Let’s get out of here,” she nipped his ear.

          “My place isn’t far. North End.”

_Whoa._ Sam stumbled hard as he got up from the table. His tequila was really beginning to hit him hard. Bela’s long legs were clouding his judgement and really, he deserved this. The uber ride up to his apartment was a blur, but he was ever grateful that they weren’t taking the T. She was biting his neck in the backseat as he let his fingers creep up her dress, pulling at her silky underwear… 

          …She tipped her head, hair spilling over one shoulder, as he slid down from her neck to the neckline of her dress, sucking at her collarbone…

          …In no time they found themselves in his kitchen, pulling at clothes and biting lips. She tasted waxy, like lipstick, but the thought was put out of his mind quickly as she dropped to her knees and worked her fingers down into the waistband of his jeans. He scrambled quickly to help her undo his belt, leaning back against the counter. His mind wandered to her lipstick for an entirely different reason, as she wrapped her hands around the base of his cock and took him in her mouth, lips smacking against his tight hot skin. Sam groaned and thrusted into her, trying to allow himself to be lost in the moment. He had been standing still long enough that the room was starting to spin just a little less, but he was still fuzzy. He looked down and pushed her dark brown hair back from her- _No, focus!_ \- this was _Bela,_ who had blonde hair. Not brown. The eyes staring up at her were green. The small flare of disappointment wasn’t quite enough to distract from Bela’s tongue…

          He lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, setting her on the counter. Something knocked over- the salt or pepper shaker, maybe- but he was much more interested in how wet she felt, with her thighs at his hips. He had worked her mini dress up to her waist and pulled back from her mouth just long enough to work it up over head. She wasn’t wearing a bra. _That makes it_ easier. His shirt followed just as quickly before Bela was kissing him deep. He growled, frustrated at how tame and reserved she still seemed to be. _Ruby would be much more-_ He shook his head. _No._

          “What’s the matter?” Bela sighed, sucking at a spot on his neck just below the earlobe.

          Sam didn’t answer, moved his attention down as she arched her back into him. Taking one breast into his hand, he sucked at the nipple of the other, hard. Grinning at the soft noises she made, he kneaded at her warm skin as she once again gripped his cock, tugging firmly.

          “Let’s move this somewhere…more horizontal.”

          Sam needed nothing more, walking her into his bedroom and dropping her on the bed. Fumbling around the drawer of his nightstand, she slowly pulled her thong down her hips and rose on her knees, combing her fingers through her hair.

          “You know Sam, we should have done this a long time ago.”

          He could only grunt in agreement, guiding her down on top of him and bucking his hips. She gasped as he found his target, his thick cock opening her up. She was hot and slippery and gripped his thighs, digging in her fingernails. He sucked at her breast, sadistically proud of the dark marks he left along her nipples and stomach. Fire pooling in his stomach and rising to his throat, he thrust harder, harder, harder. She had been whimpering for some time now, _yes, yes, oh Sam…_ and he flipped her over on her back as he came. Chest heaving, he stood up and pushed his long hair back from his forehead.

         “Got anything to drink around here?” Bela’s casual tone almost disguised her rapid breathing.

         “Hmm?” Sam called from the bathroom, wrapping the condom in tissue and dropping it into the trash.

         “Anything to drink? Champagne, maybe?” She winked, following him into the bathroom to wind her arms around his waist.

         “Uhh, water? Water would be a better idea,” he untangled himself and steered her into the kitchen, scooping up his boxers from where the lay under the table.

         “Hydration is important.” She was disgruntled, but Sam didn’t really care. Months of leading up to this, months of innuendos and sexual tension, only for the final moment to be…not what he had been hoping for.

         “I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow.” He winced. _Never talk about the next day right after sex!_

         “Oh god no, I don’t either.” Bela was slipping back into her dress. “I’ve got to be up early, I’m going out on the harbor tomorrow with Rebecca. You’ll have to excuse me if I sneak home early.”

_Thank god._ He grabbed her arm and kissed her, for good measure. “I’ll see you later, then. Monday? American History?”

         She only nodded, already on her phone calling a cab. He couldn’t help but be relieved as he locked the door behind her, turning off the lights in his small apartment and sinking down into his bed. The sheets smelled like sweat and Bela and he had to remember to wash them tomorrow…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> brief mention of past child abuse

          Sam woke up just a few hours later to a pounding on the door. He was certain that he had been dreaming, but couldn’t recall what about now that his eyes were open.

         “Sam? You awake in there? It’s like 11 already!”

          Sam rubbed his eyes and groaned. “Is that coffee I smell?”

         “Gonna have to come find out on your own, bro.” Brady sounded much too happy. Sam was usually the early riser, not the other way around. He rummaged around for a shirt and some sweatpants.

         “Your phone has been blowing up all morning, you know.” Brady tossed him the small bottle of Advil from the cupboard above the coffee maker.

         “Huh, I didn’t hear it,” Sam rarely had his phone silent outside of class.

         “Not surprising. Considering it was in the pocket of your pants. Which are on the floor. In the kitchen.”

          Sam bent down to fish for his phone, letting his hair fall in front of his face.

         “Why are your pants in the kitchen? No, don’t tell me. Did you fuck her on the table? We eat there!”

          Sam laughed. “No, we made it to the bedroom.” He pulled out his phone.

**Missed calls:**

**Dean (2)**

**Jo Harvelle (1)**

**(3) New Text Messages**

          Sam unlocked his phone, scrolling to his messages first.

          **Jo Harvelle: We were going to meet for lunch and you should come. Everyone wants to see you!**

          This piqued Sam’s interest. Everyone?

          **Dean Winchester: Rise and shine Sammy!**

**Dean Winchester: Best cure for a hangover is greasy food! Get your ass up and call us back.**

**Sam Winchester - > Jo, Dean: Alright, alright! No need to send the cavalry over. I can be ready to go in an hour. Who’s in?**

**Jo Harvelle: me, dean, ruby so far. Meg and Charlie are still with their hook-ups, I think. Ruby recommends somewhere by her place. Whiskey Priest on Seaport?**

**Sam Winchester: Heard of it before. Supposed to be good. Gonna come pick me up?**

**Dean Winchester: Be there soon, little bro.**

          Sam took his time showering, washing off every trace of the night before. Thank god she didn’t leave him with any marks. He made sure to inspect himself in the mirror, looking for anything foreign. But there was nothing, just his tattoos. The symbol of protection on his chest, which he always thought about getting removed. It was a family thing; Dean had one too. But ‘brotherly bond’ didn’t exactly make a case for having such a prominent pentagram tattoo in polite company. And a few words in Latin, along the curve of his ribs. He always thought it was funny, taking off his shirt and having to explain that despite the Latin script and pentagram he was NOT a devil worshipper. Dumping his sheets in with his laundry, he decided on jeans and his normal black tee coupled with plaid shirt. _It’s not a date, its lunch with friends,_ he told himself. _Besides, if Dean thinks I’m dressed up he’ll call me out for sure._ He was just raking a comb through his hair when he could hear Dean in the kitchen. He grabbed his keys and wallet and with one last glance in the mirror he was out the door.

          The bar they were meeting at was a little Irish pub on the waterfront. It was only about 20 minutes from Sam and Brady’s apartment on Hanover. Sam looked around as they parked, as if some neon sign would point out for him which building was Ruby’s. He began to wonder for the first time if she lived with roommates, and who they were. Meg? Family? Jo and Ruby were leaning against the railing of the patio area, waiting for the brothers.

          “Inside, or outside?” The hostess stashed her cell phone in to her apron pocket.

          “Ugh, inside!” Dean sounded miserable. “My head is killing me.”

            The four were lead to a small booth in the darker of the corners, and Sam was thrilled to find himself sitting next to Ruby. She was wearing a crop top today, and there were beautiful colorful flowers blooming along her left hip and disappearing below the waistband of her jeans. The ink was bold and begged to be noticed, drawing Sam’s eyes in.

            “Got any yourself?” Ruby didn’t appear to be upset to catch him looking.

            “Two,” Sam blushed and cleared his throat. “But nothing with color. Did you get them done here in Boston?”

            “No.” She said simply. “I moved out not too long ago. Arizona.”

            “Where in the state? I spent some time in Flagstaff as a kid, with my Uncle Bobby.”

            They were interrupted by the waiter, bringing over menus and glasses of water. He prattled on about the specials, the drink menu, and assured the group he would come back after they had some time to decide what they wanted. He left with a heavy wink at Dean. Wait, _Dean?_ Sam did a double take, from the waiter to his brother and back again, but the man was already pushing through the swinging door to the kitchen. The back of Dean’s neck and ears had flushed crimson, but other than that there was no response from his big brother. He had his eyes glued to the menu, shoulders hunched.

            “Chandler,” Ruby replied. She hardly glanced at the menu before folding it on the table in front of her.

            “So, what makes you decide to move all the way across the country?” Dean cleared his throat before speaking.

            Jo looked up with wide eyes. She glanced over to Ruby, who had leaned coolly against the table.

            “I mean, the weather here kinda sucks. Always cold and rainy. The city is so crowded and you can’t even find a place to park your damn car half the time,” Dean wasn’t backing down from Ruby’s pointed glare, meeting her eyes with the same determination. "What makes someone leave the wild, wild west for this place?”

            Ruby didn’t break her stance. “Sox fan.” the answer was simple but her tone was still guarded. “And my move paid off. We won the World Series.”

            Dean’s retort was cut off by the waiter, back as promised. Ruby and Jo each ordered one of ‘their usual’ lunch specials. Sam hastily chose a salad (“Irish Cobb, extra bleu cheese”) in order to watch his older brother closely. Dean’s earlier tension had seemingly disappeared as he ordered some spectacularly built-up burger.

          "You're gonna need a bigger mouth for that one, tough guy," the waiter chuckled. Dean didn't react, but Sam was pretty sure he saw Jo squeeze Dean's knee under the table. There was no wink this time, as the man took their menus and retreated back into the kitchen.

          “So Jo, heard anything about your new fire captain?” Ruby asked, all too innocently.

           Jo seemed happy to take over this new conversation. “Well he’s renting from us, but I’ve heard most of it from battalion. Worked for his old department six years, been captain for four. Marshall, Texas. Lennox was the one who interviewed him and says he’s a really good guy.”

          Ruby leaned back against the bench seat she shared with Sam. “Lennox, he’s the one all our rumors are coming from?”

          “Yeah, yeah, ok. So Lennox is a bit unreliable. But my mom liked him enough to rent to him, and Curt spoke pretty highly of him as well.”

          “Hmm. That does actually mean something, considering that new guy is taking Curt’s place. What’s he doing, anyways?”  

          Sam looked over at Dean as the girls talked, confused. From last night it was clear that Jo and Ruby had known each other for a bit, but it seemed that they were way closer than he had imagined.

         “Colorado, somewhere,” Jo swirled her straw around her iced tea, letting the ice cubes clink against the glass. “His kids live in Arizona. So do his step kids I think.”

         “They’re probably just in it for the weed,” Dean snorted.

          Jo shrugged. “Maybe. But I know his daughter is getting married in Sedona because he has her engagement picture in the captain’s office.”

         “Sedona…” Ruby sighed wistfully. “Sedona is gorgeous. Despite being Hell with a capital H. Too much hippie new-agey bullshit for me.”

        “What is it Ruby, not into witch craft?” Sam dared to tease her. To his relief, she gave him a mysterious, dazzling smile.

        “Wouldn’t you just _love_ to know all about the spells I could put on you.”

         Jo actually choked on an ice cube. Sam grinned sheepishly as he felt the heat rising from his stomach up to his neck. Despite the deep laughter from both of the girls, he didn’t feel like he was being made fun of. They were laughing with him, and that felt good. Sitting next to Ruby felt good.

         “Anyways, this Castiel guy seems pretty alright,” Jo circled back around to the previous topic. She loved the department, and relief was scrawled across her relaxed shoulders. Sam could only imagine how outraged she would have been if the new captain had been anything less than spectacular.

         “He made quite the impression on our EMS coordinator last week…” Ruby raised her eyebrows suggestively.

         “You bitch!” Jo threw her napkin across the table. “You’ve met him too, haven’t you?”

          Ruby winked and smoothed out her new napkin. “Only for like, ten seconds. He’s coming from a small city truck to freaking Boston. I just hope he’s ready for this challenge.”

          The arrival of their food a short while later pretty much halted all serious conversation. The group fell to small talk and Sam lapped it all up. ‘Small talk’ among his college friends was about lawsuits, the stock market, Greece’s economy. Every opinion was filed away; chats seemed more about calculations than actual socializing. Sam enjoyed talking politics and could navigate these hypothetical battlegrounds easily, but it was a very welcome break to talk about nothing in particular.  

          Dean updated them on his kindergarteners (“Glitter glue! Who’s bright idea was that? Damn stuff is everywhere, I spent hours scrubbing the walls!”). In hushed tones, Sam let them in on all the scandals and affairs of Boston’s upper class (“They actually pulled the phone records! Swear they’re going to cut him off unless he stops seeing her- bad publicity for the Senator’s son to be seen with one of the Southie’s girls.”). Ruby and Jo were in the middle of tag-teaming a hilarious story about a patient they both treated the other day when Sam’s phone rattled on the table in front of him. The incoming call was a Kansas area code, and though he didn’t have the number saved to contacts he knew exactly who it was. After a split-second hesitation, he ignored the call. He looked up from the screen to meet Dean’s steely, furious eyes.  Sam had waited just a second too long, Dean had seen the caller ID. After a visual standoff that seemed like forever, Dean whipped his own ringing phone out of his pocket and stood up.

         “Dad! How ya been?” Dean made sure to slam hard into his brother’s shoulder on his way out to the patio. “No, no, not busy. Just having lunch with- yeah, anything Dad, what…”

        “Need a moment, Sam?” Jo asked in a small voice. How many hours had she spent with the brothers, holding hands and whispering reassurances? How many bruises had she taken the fall for, writing injuries off as wrestling accidents or sports mishaps? Ellen and Bobby were almost more furious with her than with John after they found out about the abuse.

         Sam just shook his head. There would be a discussion later, he knew, but not now. Not in public, sitting next to Ruby. Not with Dean coming back to the table any minute.

         Ruby raised an eyebrow, but went right on with her story without skipping a beat, picking up mid-sentence about “her most recent naked drunk.” Sam was grateful. His father wasn’t something he was keen on talking about with Ruby. For a moment his heart stopped when he considered that Jo might have already told her friend about crazy old Uncle John, but the panic left just as quickly. Jo would do a lot of things, but she wouldn’t share other people’s business. Jo had her own skeletons, they all did, and she valued privacy above all else.

         By the time Dean had rejoined them, Jo and Ruby had been pressuring Sam into coming to a retirement party tonight, for Jo’s captain who was being replaced. Jo was just slyly suggesting that Ruby and Sam exchange numbers (“You know, so you can text Sam the address of the party tonight!” Sam would have to remember to thank her later) when Dean threw himself back down into the booth with a heavy sigh.

        “So that was dad,” He said, shoving his last few French fries into his mouth.

        “Oh, yeah? I must not have recognized the caller ID.”

         Dean wasn’t buying it. “Yep, that was him. Said you sent him straight to voicemail.”

        “So, what did he want?”

        “He needs an excuse to talk to his sons?”

        “Nooo…” Sam let his voice trail off timidly. He was sure he could guess what John wanted, and he didn’t want to hear it anymore.

        Dean’s face was about as welcoming as granite. His frown reached all the way up to his scrunched forehead, _just like dad’s always did._ Sam braced himself for an argument.

        “Gonna finish those?” Not exactly what Sam was expecting his brother to say.

        “Uhh, what?” 

        “Talking to Ruby,” Dean jerked his thumb over at the dark haired girl, who had thankfully kept quiet. “Gonna finish your fries?”

         Ruby cracked a smile and slid half of her remaining fries onto Dean’s plate. He ate them unceremoniously, making a point to chew with his mouth open and glare up at Sam. Jo tried to rope the group back into talk about this retirement party, but the frigid air was hard to cut through. In the end they ended up asking hastily for their split checks, skipping dessert. Sam was so busy ignoring his brother that he didn’t notice Dean blushing deeply as he opened his own check book, pulling out the folded receipt and carefully tucking it into his wallet.

         “So Sam,” Jo pulled on his arm and spoke loudly once they had reached the parking lot. “I want to look for a book in the college library, want to sneak me in with you?”

          Dean answered for him, grunting over his shoulder and stomping off to the Impala alone. He wasted no time in slamming the door, gunning the engine and racing off down B street.

         “He’s a real charmer.” Ruby’s voice dripped with sarcasm. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. “Is he always like that, or did I catch him on a bad day?” She looked to Sam and Jo for explanation, receiving only grim nods and apologetic shrugs. “I’ll see you tonight, at the party?” It was a question, not a statement. Sam was thrilled to see that this question was aimed at him.

         “Sure the guy won’t mind? I barely know him, only through Jo..”

          Jo waved her arm. “No! He’s cool. He’ll be so wrapped up that he won’t even notice a few extra guests. Plus my mom’s been undercharging his bar tab for years, so he kinda owes us.”

         “I’ll be there, then. Text me the address?”

         Ruby smiled and patted the back pocket of her jeans, where she had slipped her phone. “I’ll let you nerds get to the library,” she said. She brushed past Sam ever so gently on her way across the parking lot. She walked towards the cluster of apartment buildings, not toward the T. Sam watcher her until she disappeared before turning to Jo.

        “So, library?”

         Jo elbowed him. “Just trying to save you and Dean from each other.”

         “I figured as much.” In comfortable silence the pair made their way across the street. It wasn’t until they were settled on to the Silver Line that Sam cared to speak.

         “So, Ruby.”

         “Ruby.” Jo turned in her seat to face Sam, pushing back her blonde hair and grinning ear to ear.

         “She seems great. Known her long?” Sam asked eagerly.

         “Over a year, since she moved here.”

         “Jo, please don’t make me ask…”

         The girl laughed. “She started Mass Gen last year in April. She worked an ER where she came from too. She stayed in one of our apartments about three weeks, when she first moved over, which is how I know her pretty well.” The Roadhouse, like many of the other old bars and shops, was on the ground level of a building with several apartments on the second and third floor. Ellen owned these as well, three in total. Jo lived in the apartment on the top, renovated from two separate units to be a huge two bedroom with a roomy kitchen and personal entrance to the rooftop. Usually the lower two apartments were empty, as it was a hard long-term sell to get someone to move in to a unit above a popular bar and with no personal laundry room. Ellen rented them out as tourist lodgings, on AirBnB. “But she lives on the harbor now, with Meg and another girl named Abby. She and Meg go way back. Meg was the one who convinced her to move out here.”

        “She single?” _Please say yes, please say yes…_ But Sam had seen her leave with that guy last night…

        “Yep,” Jo squeezed his shoulder. “She had a small fling with a doctor at Mass Gen, but that’s been over for a while. Want to come over to my place? We can head to the party together.” Seeing Sam hesitated, she added “And I’ll tell you more about Ruby.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***potentially huge trigger warning here:  
> LONG flashback scene (in italics) with heavy drug abuse, graphic death (no major characters) lots of blood, and overall shitty parenting/child abuse by John Winchester. 
> 
> if any of these are troubling, dont worry. just skip past and i will sum everything up in a G rated authors note at the end of the chapter.

          Sam stretched as he climbed the stairs above ground, blinking in the sun. It was a little after 1:30 and there were more full tables than empty ones visible through the windows of the Roadhouse, the dedicated lunch crowd in even on weekends. There were stairs around the back alley of the building that would take them up to Jo’s apartment, but they almost always went through the restaurant. Ellen wrapped Sam into a tight hug behind the bar, before slapping him upside the head.

         “Who were your friends last night that you didn’t think it was important to introduce me to?” Nothing was ever lost on Ellen Harvelle.

         “School friends,” Sam said as he rubbed his temple.

          “Oh, I didn’t hit you that hard boy,” Ellen relented. “Well if you want to keep us all separate, fine by me. But the next time you walk out of here with a girl on your arm, I better at least know her name.”

         “ _What?_ ” Jo smacked Sam just as her mom had done. “You didn’t tell me you took anyone home last night. Who?”

          Sam grimaced. “Bela.”

         “Bela _Talbot?_ ” Jo seemed dumbstruck.

          “I don’t care who you go home with, Sam, just as long as you’re smart about it,” Ellen had rearranged her stern look as she fussed over the collar of Sam’s plaid shirt, buttoning it up over his plain black tee. She patted his chest when she was done and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I love you and your brother to death, but I do NOT need any new Winchesters running around for a while.”

         “Spare me the sex talk, Ellen.” Sam pulled her in for another quick hug and pressed his lips to the top of her head. “You gave me the talk when I was like, 11.”

         “Yeah, well, Bobby sure as hell wasn’t going to.” _Someone has to raise these boys._ She didn’t say it, but Sam knew that it was implied. He had heard it once, years ago, behind a closed door. Dean had turned on his heel and vanished when he realized what Ellen and Bobby were talking about but Sam stayed crouched, frozen. Ellen and Jo had just lost Bill and John had been scarce since, and Sam finally discovered why.

         He didn’t understand most of the words he heard- _meth, overdose_. He didn’t understand why his dad’s “cooking” and Bill’s “running” was a problem. He didn’t understand why Ellen had insisted in keeping Jo away from her father after the split, or why his own father was run off the porch by Bobby when he showed up after Bill’s funeral. He didn’t understand why he was told to shove strange packages into his own pockets as a police officer walked up to the driver’s side window of the Impala, after his dad had been pulled over for a busted tail light. He didn’t understand why he and Dean were thrown out of stores time and time again for trying to clear the shelves of SudaFed. It had taken years to realize that things weren’t the way they should have been. Sam could remember exactly when it had clicked for him, and a small pit in his stomach opened up every time his mind wandered back to that day.

_John had given Dean a $10, and told the boys to get lost. It was a change, for sure, because usually John was the one leaving while the brothers were locked in that week’s motel room for hours, days at a time. Dean had grabbed Sam by the hood of his jacket and dragged him down the street to a Plucky Pennywhistle’s. They were a little old for the place, but Dean stood guard while Sam picked the lock on the skeeball machine and pulled all the tickets out from the inside. Sam was just thinking that it may be the best day of his life, dining on pizza and ice cream and arguing with Dean over what prize to spend their tickets on when an explosion outside shook the walls. Lights and sirens flashed past the large windows. Curiously, Sam had wandered over to press his nose against the glass, heart sinking when he saw a reddish haze at the motel they had just come from. Dean slammed through the door and Sam was close on his heels, tears burning up his cheeks. He had just arrived, gasping for breath, when a fireman caught him around the middle and hauled him off, over to the truck._

_“That’s a crime scene, kid, you gotta stay here-“ But Sam didn’t hear a word. He was kicking and howling and the fireman ended up throwing him into the back seat of the truck, jumping in behind him and shutting the door. Sam tried to tell the man that his dad was in there, and probably his brother, but the words were caught in his throat as the smoke cleared. There were chunks of wood, and broken glass, and he could finally see inside the room, and…Sam only just threw the door open in time to fall on to the pavement and throw up. There were two stretchers with people on them, bloody. Broken. Burnt. There were parts of one body, or maybe more than one, strewn across the bed that he had slept on the previous night. He could see Dean’s duffel bag leaning against the wall, painted red and dripping. Everything moved like a time-lapse picture as his father and a woman in only her underwear were dragged out of the room in handcuffs. Dean entered the corner of his vision, slamming against the police officer holding their father, climbing on top of him once the man was on the ground, eyes wild and fists swinging. It took two men to separate the brawl. What hurt the worst was John. He had hit the ground with the cop, and struggled to his feet as his older son began to lose the fight, cowering against the pavement. John took one look at this and ran. He was caught, of course, and shoved in to a police car. He didn’t look back at his kids._

_Sam and Dean got to ride in a police car that day too, but the lights weren’t on. Seventeen years old, Dean was pulled into a separate room with the door closed firmly. Sam was thirteen, and sat numbly on a small couch in an empty office. An older woman came in after a few minutes, but left when all he would ask for was his older brother. She reappeared not long afterwards, accompanied by a younger woman with tired eyes and a wrinkled skirt and Dean. She had so many questions for the brothers. Every now and then the younger woman would interject or follow up an answer with a question of her own. The whole time, her pen never left the pad of paper in front of her. Right around the time the shock had worn off, the old woman brought up their mother._

_"I never met her,” Sam answered hollowly. He had seen pictures, and Bobby and Ellen had talked about her, but she had died when he was just a baby. Their house had burned down. She hadn’t made it out._

_“Dean? What do you remember about that night? November 2 nd, 19-“_

_“I know when it was.” Dean cut the woman off sharply. “I know the date.”_

_The young woman told them not to speak any more, and the brothers were left alone again as their guests excused themselves into the hall._

_A guy hardly older than Dean was the next visitor, balancing a large box. Dean gave him Bobby’s number as they unpacked the box, which contained blankets and juice boxes and magazines. It would be the next day before Bobby could get to the boys, meaning the boys would be spending the night in the group home on the next property over. Dean yelled at the young man for suggesting this, he yelled at the officer driving them over, he yelled at the social worker who met them at the front door. When Bobby pulled up the next morning, Dean had yelled himself hoarse and Sam refused to talk anyways. It was a full day drive to Bobby’s home, to Boston, but the man drove non-stop as the boys huddled together in the back._

         Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped back from Ellen, following Jo through the kitchen to the set of stairs in the back. He had just hit the second floor landing when one of the doors opened and a laundry basket was shoved into his gut.

        “Oh, sorry!” The man behind the laundry basket dropped his clothes as he reached out to grab Sam’s arm, steadying him. “I wasn’t paying attention, usually I can hear people coming up the stairs. Are you ok?”

         Sam assured the man that he was, and stooped to pick up the stray clothes. On the very top was a long, tan trench coat.

        “Castiel,” the man said, pushing the laundry aside. “My name is Castiel. Thanks for the help with the clothes.”

        “My station’s new captain,” Jo explained.

        “Sam Winchester,” he shook the man’s hand.

        “Winchester? That’s kind of an unusual name.” Castiel voice was gravel, low and rough.

        “Says Castiel. Dude, nobody has been named Castiel since…since…”

        “Biblical times?” Castiel chuckled, unoffended. “Yeah, I’ve already heard all of the jokes you could possibly throw at me. I still haven’t forgiven my parents.”

         It was Sam’s turn to laugh as the man passed him on his way downstairs, down to the washer and dryer in the basement of the building.

        Sam nodded his approval at Jo and she threw an arm around him as they made the last few stairs up to her apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO quick explanation of the flashback (for everyone trying to skip the trigger warning/half asleep/whatever
> 
> the lead in and beginning of the flashback explains some of their past: john cooks meth and bill (ellen's ex husband/jo's father) was the runner. bill OD'd one day and thats how he died. 
> 
> when sam was 13 and dean was 17, john made them leave the motel room for a few hours so he could cook some meth. there was an explosion, john lived, lots of people died. john/the boys were taken to the police stations separately for questioning. the prosecuting lawyer asked the boys about their mother's death, indicating that the house fire that killed her was also meth related. john's lawyer told them not to say anything and so they hung out in a group home until bobby came the next day to pick them up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the second worse sex scene ever written (the worst being my sam/bela from earlier :( sorry guys

          Dean gasped and slammed his fists against the wall as he came.

         “Like that?” asked the other man, releasing Dean’s throbbing cock as the bricks were splattered white and sticky.

         “Fuck, yes, just- ahh, don’t stop,” Dean managed the words in between moans.

          The waiter from the restaurant pulled Dean’s head back with one hand and dug his fingernails into his hips with the other as he thrust.

         “You’re so tight,” the man growled into Dean’s ear. “So damn tight, I’m going to come…Going to fill your sweet ass up even more.”

          Dean leaned on his forearms against the wall, knees weak. “So this is how it works, huh? I give you a good tip and you give me a tip in return?”

         “I tried just the tip, tough guy, and you begged for more.”

          It was true. Dean had barely hit the second stoplight when the waiter texted him back, his break was starting, how far away was he? Ever thankful for the lube and condoms he kept stashed in the Impala’s glove box, he pulled a semi-illegal U turn to meet the man in a back alley.

         Dean bucked his hips back, moaning. Every thrust of this man’s thick hot cock sent shivers up his spine.

        “Gotta hold myself back from fucking you right through this wall…” the man punctuated each word with a hard and heavy pounding, hips slamming against Dean’s thighs.

        “You talk too much,” Dean grumbled, pulling at his spent cock. This man was so big, making Dean erect all over again. “I ought to shove my dick back down your throat, just to shut you up.”

         The man smacked Dean’s ass, hard. “Sorry about that, tough guy. Fine piece of cake like you, I’ve gotta savor it.” The man bit down on Dean’s shoulder as he came, sliding out slowly. Dean rested his forehead against the cool bricks in front of him, wishing it had gone on longer. “Ten more minutes on my break, how’s that sound?”

        Dean grinned wolfishly and spun around, pushing the waiter down on his knees in front of him.  The man gladly took Dean’s hardening cock into his mouth, lapping up the remaining come and working a single finger up into Dean’s lube-dripping hole. Dean gripped the back of the man’s head with his fingers, pushing his cock deep past the man’s strong tongue. Between the desperate greedy sucking and the fingers in his ass-two now, three maybe- Dean hit orgasm again quickly, coming in to the back of the man’s throat. He made eye contact with Dean as he swallowed, and licked his lips when he straightened up.

        The two men redressed quickly and silently, and with a clap on the back and a “text me tonight,” Dean was sliding back behind the wheel of his Impala. He looked around warily as he backed out of the alleyway, making sure no one was around to see…


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***ANOTHER HUGE TRIGGER WARNING  
> VERY GRAPHIC DEPICTION OF SUICIDE, DISCUSSION OF SUICIDE PATIENTS, DISCUSSION OF DIFFERENT WAYS TO COMMIT SUICIDE.
> 
> I WILL SEPARATE THESE FEW SENTENCES FROM THE REST OF THE TEXTS BY TWO BOLDED LINES OF *****'S. 
> 
> IT IS NOT IMPERATIVE TO THE STORY, YOU WILL NOT MISS ANYTHING.

           It was a cold night, even for September, and Sam was internally congratulating himself on his foresight to leave a jacket in the coatroom of The Roadhouse for times like this. He had spent all afternoon catching up with Jo and hadn’t made it back to his own place before leaving for the party. The retiring fireman lived in a small house in the suburbs with a decent sized yard lit like daylight with various string lights and torches. Classic rock played over a speaker, and the small space was crowded with people.

            Sam had no trouble worming his way around, making quick introductions when he recognized a face. He found the host in the backyard, operating a blender with a young boy with dirty blonde hair and glasses who must be his son.

            “Harvelle, right?” The retiring captain shook hands with Sam and introduced his son.

            “Winchester, actually. Sam.”

            “Sorry, dude. Jo’s cousin, right?”

            Sam nodded. Though technically not related, the Harvelle’s and Winchester’s had spent so long being mistaken for blood that they all just resigned themselves and agreed these days. Curt eagerly explained the setup of food and drinks laid out on the table before him. Everything had a story: his daughter’s home made bruschetta, his wife’s favorite margaritas, a salsa that his kids had brought specially from Mexico just for this party. Sam promised to try everything and fixed a plate, ending up next to Chuck at one of the many card tables in the backyard.

            It was nice catching up with Chuck. When Sam had first moved to Boston, Chuck was going through paramedic school with Jo and had become a staple around the Roadhouse. He was a few years older than Sam, about Dean’s age, and had previously gotten a degree in literature before deciding to go to paramedic school. “Only work two days a week, full time,” Chuck explained. “More time to work on my novels.” Sam pried for information about this supposed book series, but Chuck was tight-lipped and wrote under a pen name. “My following is mostly, um teenagers. Teenage girls. It’s kind of a cult thing.” Chuck seemed shy but roared with laughter right along with Sam, stealing food from his plate. He talked about what is was like working emergency medical services in Boston, going over the hierarchies and chain of command among the facilities. Maybe because he had never been to a doctor in his life before leaving for college, maybe because of his father’s intense distrust of hospitals, but Sam had never been even remotely interested in the medical field. Now, however, he found it fascinating.

            “Shirley, right?” a rough voice behind them announced the arrival of Castiel, who pulled out the chair next to Sam before sitting down. “Chuck Shirley?”

            Chuck nodded through a mouthful of food.

            “On the ambulance contracted with my new station.” Castiel continued. “Jo Harvelle told me you’re one hell of a medic. Glad to be working with you.”

            “Oh, Jo’s too nice,” Chuck drummed his fingers nervously against the table. “But by all means, please continue to think the best of me.”

            Castiel laughed as he inspected his plate of food. “You do know that I come from a very rural area. Half of the previous medics I worked with couldn’t even manage Hare Traction. You can’t be worse than that.”

            “That’s nothing.” Sam’s heart jumped to his throat as Ruby sank into the chair next to Castiel. “At my old hospital, I had a pharmacy tech call me in the middle of a code to ask if my patient was allergic to normal saline.”

            Castiel’s jaw dropped and Chuck sputtered on his drink. “You’re kidding!”

************SUICIDE WARNING************

            “Cross my heart. I told him that I doubted an allergic reaction could make the whole ‘drinking a quart of anti-freeze’ thing any worse. He didn’t seem to think it was funny.”

            “Anti-freeze? Like, for cars?” Sam asked, curiously. “How does someone accidentally drink that stuff?”

            Confused looks from his three table mates. Castiel cocked his head, licking his lips, as Chuck suddenly became very interested in his plactic fork.

            “It…wasn’t an accident…” Ruby said slowly.

            Sam’s blood ran cold. “Not an accident? What do you mean?”

            “Suicide.” Castiel’s voice seemed more grating than usual. “Right?”

            Ruby nodded. “A very rich white people type suicide. Pretty common actually, at my place. Rich people don’t use violence. Too scared.”

            Chuck and Castiel agreed, much to Sam’s horror. He wasn’t sure what was bothering him the most, the fact that a human being would actually drink anti-freeze to kill themselves or the very nonchalant way that these three were discussing it. Almost like whether or not it might rain tomorrow, or overdue library fees.

            “It’s only the poorer ones that use drugs,” Chuck scraped the last bit of potato salad from the edge of his plate. “Or just something straight up, with a knife.”

            “In Texas it was usually guns.” Castiel chewed thoughtfully on his fork. “Guns, or leaving the car running in the garage.”

            “Poison was big in Chandler. Anti-freeze, chlorine, you name it. We always used to joke about how Auto Zone and Home Depot should require therapy clearance before allowing customers to make purchases.” Ruby caught sight of Sam’s face. “Anyways, Castiel, I feel your pain about incompetence. I swear people just think this job is a few easy semesters.”

************END OF SUICIDE WARNING************

            Very ready to abandon his stomach churning thoughts of death, Sam asked about school. He knew that Chuck had been to a city sponsored paramedic program, and was interested to find out that Ruby had received a bachelor’s degree from ASU just two years ago. What surprised him the most was Castiel’s transcript.

            “I went to a catholic university on Washington, DC, and I’ve got a masters in Theology with a minor in ancient languages- Greek, Latin, that sort of stuff. When I moved to Texas, I was looking to start over so I took some emergency medical and fire science courses at a community college. Worked that department for six years, and now I’m here.” He refused to meet anyone’s eyes and his shoulders were hunched. Sam desperately wanted to ask how a masters student in the nation’s capital made a sudden switch to community college in a tiny town, but Castiel’s posture made it clear that he wouldn’t be answering any questions. Ruby exchanged a quizzical glance with Sam.

            “Dear god, please just tell me you don’t listen to country music.” Chuck groaned. “We cannot have any country music listeners in the force. Not again.”

            “Again?” Castiel chuckled, tension melting. “In any case, the answer is no. Though I can keep my mouth shut if anyone else happens to enjoy the genre.”

            Ruby and Sam shook their heads earnestly. “Despite being born in the Southwest, I seriously hate the stuff. I’m some sort of supernatural commodity.” Ruby explained.

            “Tell me about it. I was born in Louisiana and grew up in North Carolina. I was nearly lynched for changing the radio station.” His brow furrowed slightly but the expression passed quickly. “What about you, Sam? Tell us about yourself.”

            Sam hesitated, uninterested in sharing his life story. Chuck must have known some minor details, as he suddenly excused himself to bring them all another round of drinks in plastic cups. Castiel seemed polite, but Ruby was leaning in expectantly. Drunk on the attention of her deep merlot eyes, he relented.

            “I was born in Kansas. Lawrence. My mom died when I was really little, just six months old.” The words caught in his throat but he powered on. “After that, me and my dad and brother spent a lot of time on the road. It…it took us a while to settle down. I ended up here about nine years ago, lived ever since. I’m in my first real year of law school at Boston College.” He shrugged as he ended his quick story.

            “Seeing anyone?” Sam received an electric shock. _Ruby just asked if he was single._

            “No.” He said too quickly. He felt a small flash of guilt, thinking of Jess, but was rewarded when Ruby smiled.

            Chuck was back with margaritas. “Speaking of your brother, I saw him inside. Told him we were out here.”

            “Older brother, or younger?” Castiel asked, looking around.

            “Older.”

            “He seemed kinda like he was in a bad mood.” Chuck continued as he stirred up his little margarita. “Arguing with your uncle.”

            Sam wasn’t sure to be embarrassed or grateful about Chuck’s straightforward lack of tact. After a brief internal debate he realized it may be a blessing, hoping that this information may just save Dean from any unfavorable first impressions. If the bar is set low from the get go…

            “Is it just you two?” Ruby asked. Sam was secretly thrilled that she was asking so much about him.

            “Yep. Me and Dean. You?”

            “Technically only child. Couple of half siblings, way younger than me, but we aren’t close. I couldn’t even tell you how old they are.” She looked expectantly over at Castiel.

            “Tons of us.” His expression was sour again. “Seven. Three girls, four boys. I’m pretty much the middle.”

            “Seven, huh?” Chuck shook his head. “That is a ton.”

            “Catholic. Plus a set of twins.” Castiel’s shoulders were hunched again.

            “Christmas must be a nightmare.”

            Castiel hummed some sort of approving noise.

            “Don’t sweat it,” Ruby thumped his back. “I’m not close with my family either.”

            The music was turned down and the party goers spilled outside, Jo and Curt and several other firefighters carrying boxes of sparklers and fireworks.

            “Straight from Mexico, thanks to my kids!” Curt exclaimed, pointing out his son from earlier and a pretty brunette about Sam’s age clutching the arm of a tall, muscular blonde man, who all waved. “Who wants to help, huh? It’s ok if we burn the house down, every EMS worker in Boston who’s off tonight is here at this party…” The crowd laughed and cheered, vying for matches and lighters and calling dibs on roman candles. Sam caught sight of Dean in the glass doorway of the house and waved him over.

            Dean stomped towards the table, his attention focused fully on his cell phone.

            “Who are you texting?” Sam asked carefully, hoping that their earlier argument was forgotten.

            “No one. Charlie.” Dean looked up from his phone just long enough to stare Sam straight in the eye. Which is how he was positive that his brother was lying. The two brothers had grown up lying, and Dean was too good at it. He had no tells or twitches. He could tell you all about how he spent last summer in Atlantis, which he got to by riding unicorns and bribing the Loch Ness Monster to tell him the secret password and still pass a polygraph test.

            Ruby stood up, gathering her empty plate and cup. “I’m going to go inside, too much noise out here. Coming?”

            Sam jumped up, gladly giving his chair to Dean. He followed Ruby inside, throwing out his trash as he passed it. He glanced back at Dean in the doorway. His older brother had dropped his phone and was shaking hands with Castiel. Pleased, Sam turned away. Everyone inside seemed to know Ruby, but she brushed them all off until she finally reached a closed door and pushed it open, looking over her shoulder to grin at Sam.

          The room was…an office. Small shelves with books, CDs, magazines. Pictures on the wall and postcards leaned against knick knacks. Ruby pushed some papers aside and put her feet up on the computer desk, crossing her arms over her chest. Sam sat down on another chair, suddenly very aware that he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Ruby just stared at him for a while, carefully. He couldn’t figure her out, and it put him on edge. She specifically invited him back into a room with a closed door, she seemed to know the house well enough. And she chose an office?

         “Not a huge fan of the noise.” Ruby said after a while, eyes never leaving Sam’s.

          Sam shrugged, flexing his fingers up against his knees.

         “You just seemed uncomfortable.”

         “I’m fine,” Sam insisted, too fast. It wasn’t really a lie. Ruby let it go.

        “Law school, huh? How does one decide to do that?” 

         Sam waved his hand. “Good money,” he said. “Especially lawyers from the East Coast.”

        “But why did _you_ decide to go to law school?” Her arms were still crossed over her chest, like she was sizing him up.

         He hesitated, wondering what to give away. It was true about the money, he had always wanted to have his own permanent home and car. He never even had a dog, for Christ’s sake. “A teacher of mine once told me that I had the brains to be a lawyer or something, and I got into Boston College full-ride.”

        “Lots of people make money, though. Easier jobs. Why lawyer?” She pressed on. It was like she knew that he wasn’t quite telling her everything.  

        “You tell me,” He countered. “Tell me why you got in to medicine, especially emergency room, and then I’ll tell you.”

        “That’s a pretty personal question, Winchester.” She sounded defiant, but she still looked relaxed.

            “You asked me a personal question.” She inspected her nails, saying nothing. “The ER must be more interesting than a court room.”

            “Just as interesting, probably. Definitely more political.” She kept her eyes down. “I had terrible nurses, growing up. It made me so, so angry. I couldn’t take it. I hated them. They always say if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Right? So I did. I wanted to make it right, make sure no one was ever treated like me.” She leaned forward in her chair, looking up at Sam through her long dark eyelashes. Sam was stunned, barely aware that his mouth was gaping open like a fish. That sounded like the beginning of a hugely personal confession. “Your turn.”

            “That was still pretty cryptic.” Sam knew that he was pushing things. She had told him a lot, and besides, didn’t he have his own skeletons?

            “You haven’t told me your story yet. I know you have one.” If this sudden breach into personal territory bothered her, she certainly didn’t show it.

            “I guess im just a sucker for Reese Witherspoon.” He made sure not to break eye contact, not to waver. If she was playing a game, he was going to win it.

            Ruby laughed, shaking her head. “Legally Blonde was Harvard.”

            Sam celebrated his victory silently. “That movie rocked and you know it.”

            She giggled. Her phone chimed and she slid it out of her pocket, scanning the screen briefly before setting it down on the desk next to her. “Jo wants to know where we are.”

            “She probably texted me too,” Sam said, pulling out his own phone. He had received several texts that night, but hadn’t even been bothered to glance at it until now. Three from Brady, one each from Bela, Bobby, and Jo. _Missed call and voicemail from Jess._

            “Everything ok?” Ruby asked.

            Sam put his phone on the desk, screen down, and sighed. “Yeah…yeah. Usually I have my volume turned up so I don’t miss as many texts.”

            “Mr. Popular,” She laughed, sweeping back her curly brown hair. There was a sharp knock at the door and she straightened up. Sam hadn’t realized how closely she had been leaning into him until then.

            It was a blonde woman who Sam recognized instantly as the fireman’s wife; she smiled out of all the pictures in the room. “Ruby! How are you?” She seemed surprised to see them in here, but at least she wasn’t mad.

            “Having a great time, thanks. Sandy, this is my friend Sam Winchester.” She put her hand on his arm as she introduced him. “Sam, Sandy is Curt’s wife. She works in L&D at my hospital.” Sandy was cheerful when she said hello, but picked up a photo album from the bookshelf and excused herself quickly.

            Sam looked back up to Ruby, steeling up his nerves, when the door flung open again, no knock. Ruby quickly withdrew her hand from Sam’s arm, where it had still been resting.

            It was Bobby. “Sam? Got a minute?”

            Sam was about to say _no, he didn’t, what is it that it has to interrupt a party?_ when Ruby jumped up, grabbing her phone and moto jacket and striding out of the room. She turned on her heel and waved at Sam over Bobby’s shoulder before disappearing into the main room.

            Bobby closed the door and sat down in the chair she had just vacated. “Boy, it’s your father. It can’t wait.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my dad, stepmom, my brother, and my fiance and myself make appearances in the chapter, cuz im shitty at creating OC's. everybody say hi! ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam is the real star of this fic but i just love dean winchester so much. especially grumpy dean.
> 
> minor transphobia in this chapter: benny is a trans man and his family didn't react well in the beginning. thats about it but i wanted to let you guys know anyways. 
> 
> also minor mentions of past child abuse, domestic abuse, and canon-compliant minor character death.

          Dean was in a bad mood. His hookup had just backfired on him ( _A date? Who wants to go on a date with a guy they just booty called in a back alley? Who has the right to get upset that they won’t bring him to meet the whole damn family only hours after meeting for the first time and having trashy public sex like a god damn teenager? The whole point of afternoon fucks was that they didn’t expect anything else. Dean didn’t want a relationship right now, just a warm mouth. He had made that very clear._ ) and the call from his dad and arguing with Sammy just made it all worse, somehow. He mucked around in the auto garage for a while after getting home, just trying to avoid Bobby. Charlie was at some tech workshop and Benny wasn’t answering his phone. He hadn’t even realized how many beers he had drank before he slammed his hand in the engine block of an old Ford Bronco, slicing his palm right open. It turns out that Bobby was nowhere to be found anyways, and out of all the useless shit he had stashed in his kitchen and study there wasn’t a single first aid kit. He pulled a paper towel to wind around his hand, using another under his foot to slide around and catch all the droplets of blood from the tile.

            He took a long shower, only shutting off the water when it ran so cold that his toes turned numb. Still nothing on his phone. He half expected Sam to text him, apologizing like he always did. He wasn’t sure what would make him angrier; the silence or the simpering make up messages. There was no cold beer in the fridge so he kicked the wall, just for good measure. Hand stinging and how with a dull ache in his foot, he sank down on the ancient couch and flipped on the TV. There was a marathon of _Dr. Sexy_ reruns, which was at least a small bonus. He willed himself not to check any dating sites. The girls in Boston were either snooty, rich with big yachts and old money or complete trash. But the boys…Dean shook his head. Twenty seven god damn years old and he was still in the fucking closet. He couldn’t even bring himself to tell Sammy or Bobby. Charlie and Benny knew, of course. He was almost positive that Jo had guessed it, but they never talked about it. Being out to a few friends felt good, but an actual relationship with a man was absolutely out of the question when he couldn’t even bring the guy home. And there was the whole ‘living in his uncle’s house’ thing. Yeah, Dean was a real keeper. Everyone was falling all over themselves to earn his hand-NOT.

            His phone finally chimed. His heart leapt to see that it was Benny, finally. Dean’s good mood was instantly squashed when he remembered that Benny was with his families, back in Louisiana, for the first time in ten years after being kicked to the curb when he came out as a man. It was dangerous, Benny always said, being anything but cis, het, and white that far south. Benny had been sure that his family would love him, no matter what- they always promised that they would. When it turned out that they only loved “their little girl Elizabeth,” he was crushed. Dean could relate. His neck still ached when he remembered what John had done to him after flipping on the lights to find his son in bed with another boy from the wrestling team.

            Benny was strong, though, and he had a good head on his shoulders. He didn’t take shit from anyone, and he was the best damn teacher Dean had ever seen. The two men spent hours and hours together, Benny helping Dean with lesson plans. They had closed down the Roadhouse on more than one occasion. Dean had been upset to find that his crush on Benny wasn’t reciprocated, but the two became best friends and that was more than Dean could ever ask for. Despite this, however, Dean was slightly ashamed to find himself so angry at Benny at the moment. _I’m having a bad day too! Not even gonna ask about me?_

            He was asleep on the couch when Bobby shook him awake.

            “We gotta talk, boy.” Dean grumbled and pulled a pillow up over his face. “Quit your whinin’ and- what happened to your hand?”

            “Piece of shit Bronco outside.”

            Bobby smirked. “Did you at least get the drive shaft replaced?” Which earned him the finger. “We gotta talk, Dean. About your dad.”

            Dean sat up, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, he called me today too. Usual stuff. Wanted to know how much money I had saved up, where I was living, blah blah blah. I told him everything he needed to know and he hung up. Didn’t even ask me about work.”

            Usually Bobby was sympathetic with Dean. He alone seemed to appreciate just how hard Dean had worked, just how much pride he took in his kindergarteners. Just a week ago he had been offered a full-time position next year, taking over for Mrs. Vantoch, who was leaving to have a baby.

            “Did he say anything else?”

            “No. Never does. Why would he?”

            Bobby sighed, pulling off his old trucker hat to run his hands through his hair. “Dean, we’re gonna have someone come and stay with us for a while. In the second bedroom.”

            “Come on Bobby, I don’t need the riot act. You know I can behave.” _Who was coming, anyways? Bobby had no other family._

            “I know, son. I know. I just want you to understand that I want you here, too. I ain’t gonna make you leave and I sure as hell hope you don’t.”

            “Bobby…”

            The old man put his hat back on, turning to look Dean in the eye. “Your brother.”

            “Sam? He lives with that douche Brady, makes a ton of money. Why does he need to move in? Why wouldn’t he just tell me himself?” Dean’s heart sank when he met Bobby’s eyes.

            “Your other brother, boy.”

            “We- we don’t have another brother.” Disbelief and horror bubbled up in Dean’s stomach. “Mom died when Sammy was only six months old.”

            “Half brother.” Bobby’s voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper. _Oh hell, why did it have to be him? Why was it always Bobby that had to drop these bombs on the boys, why couldn’t John ever take the fall for once?_ “Calm down, Dean, I only found out about him about a week ago.”

            “A week. A week. AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL US?” Dean sprang up from the couch, pacing in front of the fireplace. “WE HAVE MORE SIBLINGS? DAD- DAD…HE…”

            “I had to do my research! I had to know for sure what was happening.”

            “SO WHAT’S HAPPENING?”

            “Calm down, Dean, and don’t you yell at me. This ain’t my fault and you know it.” Bobby crossed his arms. He was trying to look defiant, Dean knew, but his face just didn’t quite match the action. Bobby loved them fiercely like his own blood. Dean just glared at him “Adam. Adam Milligan. He’s fifteen, and his momma just died. No family to take him in.”

            “We aren’t his family.” Dean spat out. His hand was bleeding again, from how hard he was clenching his fists.

            “Like hell we aren’t. I don’t like this any more than you, Dean, but what are we gonna do? He’s practically an orphan-“

            “I’M PRACTICALLY AN ORPHAN!” Angry tears were forming in the corners of his eyes but Dean couldn’t be bothered to wipe them away. “I NEVER EVEN KNEW MY MOM! And apparently not my dad either.” This broke him. All he had ever wanted was John to be proud of him. He had done everything that was asked of him. But he wasn’t enough? Dean and Sam weren’t enough for John, he had to have someone else too? Dean racked his brains, trying to picture this boy, who his mother might be. But he couldn’t. John was always gone for weeks at a time. It could have been anyone, anywhere.

            Bobby placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Dean, you had it terrible there growing up. I’m so proud of you, and Ellen’s so proud of you. You turned out so well and it ain’t your fault that your dad could never realize it. But we do what’s right, in this family, and what’s right is helping out a poor boy in need. Be mad at John all you want, but don’t take this out on the new boy. You’re better than that.”

* * *

 

           Ellen was in on this, too. He argued with the two of them all the way to the retirement party. Surely there was a mistake? No. Well if this woman was sleeping around with meth dealers, how can we even be sure John was the father? A blood test? Blood tests can be wrong, it isn’t always- Oh, John had met him. John knew him. John had taken him to baseball games and birthday parties and-

            Dean just couldn’t take it anymore. Charlie was finally done with her stupid workshop and had gotten around to texting him back. He ran into Chuck-literally collided with him- over at the drinks table. He wasn’t exactly interested in joining him and Sam over at the table outside, but promised to come anyways. One of the paramedics was eyeing him, and he was just about to walk up and lay on the charm when the host of the party brought out fireworks and herded everyone outside to light them off. The paramedic winked at Dean as she was swept away. After a long sigh, he grabbed a drink from the buffet table and went to find his friends, as promised. It was dark, and his eyes took some adjusting, but Sammy was waving him down from a round table on the lawn. Their earlier argument was long out of Dean’s mind and he pushed through the empty chairs towards his brother. His real brother. Bobby had made Dean promise not to tell him, that he was telling him tonight and that Sam should hear it from Bobby just like Dean had.

            “Who are you texting?” Sam asked, casually. Dean knew that he was just trying to keep on his good side, after what happened at the diner.

            “No one. Charlie.” Dean winced internally. Sam zeroed right in on him, detecting that his big brother wasn’t quite telling him the truth. Dean figured that he should apologize for earlier, when Ruby stood up and nudged Sam’s arm.

            “I’m going to go inside, too much noise out here. Coming?” Sam jumped up like a puppy, running after her without another word. Dean sat in his brother’s now empty chair and frowned at their retreating figures.

            “Ruby’s great, Dean,” Chuck said. When Dean only grunted, he went on. “She’s a nurse, she’s wickedly smart. You’re the one always complaining about his girlfriend.”

            “Dean?” A rough voice next to him brought Dean back to earth, back to this table. “Sam’s older brother, right? I’m Castiel.”

            Dean’s heart jumped in to his throat as he turned to look at the man offering his hand out. _Holy shit._ He. Was. Beautiful. Thick dark hair and full, pouty lips. It definitely wasn’t doing him a disservice that _there were literally fireworks_ going off, illuminating big blue eyes and just the faintest hint of stubble on a strong jaw.

            “Yeah, Dean. Winchester. Nice to meet you…”

            “Castiel.” The man grinned as he shook Dean’s hand, firmly. “I’m going to be Jo Harvelle’s new captain. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

            If Dean could think properly, this might have worried him. If he could talk, he might have asked what exactly it was that Jo had said. But his heart was still trying to crawl right out of his chest and he was trapped in the sensation of Castiel’s strong, calloused hand holding tightly on to his own. He was vaguely aware of Chuck mumbling something about work in the morning, needing to be home soon. Castiel had let his hand go to stand up and clap Chuck on the back, exchanging a few words before settling back down in his chair. Dean wrenched his eyes away, forcing his racing mind to be still.

            “Jo’s cousin?” Castiel’s voice was like sand on a beach, rough but warm and relaxing. It took Dean a moment or so to register that he had been asked a question.

            “No. Well yes. Umm,” He cleared his throat. “Not technically related, but we might as well be. So either answer is correct.”

            Castiel nodded, wisely. “She’s a great girl. Her and her mother.” He stole a sly glance over at Dean. “I was very much looking forward to meeting her family.”

            “You don’t like her, do you?” Dean blurted out. Just his luck, after this disastrous day, that this literal angel of a man was trying to get with Jo.

            “Like her like her, no.” Castiel seemed to be thinking, hard. “She’s…no. Not like that. Her and Ellen have been taking good care of me since I moved, and so I’m quite fond of them both. That’s all.”

            Which led Dean to believe that that most certainly wasn’t all.

            “Anyways, nice to meet you Dean.” Castiel began to stand up, gathering his things. “I’ve got some errands tomorrow, I shouldn’t be out too late.”

            And with that, he was walking away. “I’ll see you around then, Castiel!” Dean called after him.

            The man paused, pulling on his coat. “I hope so.”


	8. Chapter 8

            Sam found Dean a short while later, watching the fireworks. Ruby must have left, because he was alone. Carrying two beer bottles, he set one down in front of Dean and took a long pull from the other one.

            “I talked to Bobby.” Sam offered after a few moments of silence.

            Dean nodded, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.

            “Did you know?”

             Another grim nod. “About six hours now. Maybe.”

            “I just can’t believe this. How could we not know?” Sam sounded incredulous, hurt.

            “Yanno, Sammy, I don’t wanna talk about it. I just wanna go down to the Roadhouse and drink my ass off.”

             Sam only nodded, gripping Dean’s arm and pulling him to his feet.

            Charlie met the brothers there, frantically waving them over to a corner of the bar. She was a godsend, Sam decided. There were baskets of fries and glasses of whiskey, neat, waiting for them on either side of her own barstool. She hugged both of the brothers, and that was it. They didn’t talk about it.

            She talked about her web design workshop, promising to sign Sam up for the next one so they could go together. They argued about pinup models, and cars, and movies. Sam and Dean taught her how to play poker and she taught them how to hack into the old jukebox. Jo made her way in from the party around midnight, smelling like campfire smoke and sex. She vehemently denied the latter, joining them in arm wrestling and darts. Sam was surrounded by friends and he was happy. He still hadn’t listened to Jess’ voicemail, hadn’t read Brady’s texts.

* * *

 

          Sam woke up with a crick in his neck, on Jo’s couch. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and he was squished in between Dean and Charlie. It took him a moment to remember why he was here: the four of them had closed down the bar, made their way up to Jo’s apartment for a Mario Kart tournament. He was the first one awake, and the game was still running of the TV. He switched it off before leaving, locking the door behind him.

          It must have been early, as the bar wasn’t open yet when he made his way into the kitchen. Ellen and Bobby were there, making breakfast. Ellen smiled at him and pulled a plate out of the warmer, setting it down on the little table in the corner of the kitchen.

          “I’m twenty three, Ellen, you don’t have to make me breakfast every Sunday morning.” He said with a yawn, but eagerly dug into the omelet. She had made it his favorite way, with peppers and mushrooms.

          “Shut your mouth, boy, you’re always gonna be my baby. You and Dean.” She rumpled his hair as she poured him orange juice. “Better than Jo, ‘cuz I didn’t even hafta have you myself.”

          Bobby was straight to business. “Adam Milligan’s plane lands at 2:15 today. I’m gonna go pick him up and bring him back here. We’re gonna have a family dinner, together, after the bar closes at five. You and Dean aren’t exactly excited for this, I know, but try not to take it out on the poor kid. He’s just as upset as you are.”

         “You know Bobby,” Sam began, “I’m actually kind of looking forward to this. Being an older brother, and all. This kid probably had it just as crappy as we did.”

          Bobby brightened up. “You’re exactly right. Please let Dean in on some of that kindness.” He leaned over to give Ellen a quick kiss. “I gotta go check on Rufus, make sure the shop is gonna be fine without me today. That godforsaken Porsche is finally done and if Rufus manages to screw this up...”

          “Why don’t you stay here today, Sam?” Ellen asked, pulling her apron over her head and dumping flour into the big mixer behind her. “Catch up with all of us. The light above the bar keeps going out, it would be real nice if you and your brother would change it for me.”

          Sam debated saying yes, chewing carefully on his toast. “I have to get home eventually, just for a little. Shower, clean clothes, homework.” When Ellen fixed him with a stern look, he added “But I could stop by the hardware store on my way back, grab some new lightbulbs. Fixing the light will be easy.”

          Keys in one hand, cell phone in the other, Sam wasn’t paying nearly enough attention as he should have been when he let himself into his apartment. Ruby had followed him on Instagram last night. He hadn’t talked to her since she left him alone to talk with Bobby the night before. He had her number, saved in his phone, but could never actually force himself to do anything more than stare at the contact. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to find on her profile, but anything was better than nothing. The last thing in the world that he was prepared for today was for Jess to be sitting at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee with Brady.

          “I, uh…I’ll leave you two be,” Brady stammered, grabbing his mug and retreating into his own room on the other side of the kitchen.

          “Sam! You look…tired,” Jess said, eyeing him up and down. He felt like a guilty husband caught coming home late. He was certainly costumed for the part, all wrinkly clothes and two day stubble. He knew his long hair must be a mess, and yesterday’s outfit smelled like the Roadhouse, the booze and fryer grease and wood polish he had grown so accustomed to suddenly out to tattle on him. _He was at that bar on the Southside that you hate!_ “Late night?”

          Sam swallowed a lump in his throat, debating carefully. On one hand, it was really none of Jess’ business what he was doing last night. Or the night before, or any time since The Talk two weeks ago. But on the other… _it was Jess._ She had taken him in when no one else would, this tall shy boy from the South Side. She had introduced him to all the right people, gotten him a job, helped him understand how to act among everyone who was way out of his class. He had fallen in love, he told himself. He hid his hesitation by busying himself pouring a cup of coffee.

          “Just stayed the night at my cousin’s place.”

         “The cousin who isn’t really your cousin?” Sam shifted on his feet instead of answering. He knew how Jess felt about his family. They were low class, they were holding him back from what it would take to make it out in the corporate world. Dean was an absolute disgrace, with his laundry list of attitude problems and tendency to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. ‘ _He’s your Achilles heel, Sam,’ Jess had always told him. “One day he’s going to get in serious trouble and he’ll drag you down too and you’ll never get what you want in this life. You work so hard and you’re just going to throw it away?’_   

        “Minor family crisis.” Man, he was digging himself deep here.

         Jess pursed her lips. “Sam, I warned you about all that! What if your boss or professors saw you coming home like that- from there?” She tapped her long fingernails against the counter.

        “I know, Jess, but it’s family.”

        She sighed. “I just want you to be aware of what you might be giving up, Sam.” He looked down, splashing milk into his coffee. “Speaking of family, sister just got engaged.”

       “Wow, Adrienne? That’s great.” Sam tried to remember her boyfriend’s face, but he couldn’t. Some son of a high stakes New York banker.

       “Dad is thrilled," Jessica said off-hand, inspecting her fingernails. "We never imagined he was going to pop the question, they've been together so long..." She trailed off with a meaningful look at Sam.

       He almost choked on his coffee. "Oh. Great. Good for her."

      "You already said that," said Jess disdainfully.

      "Yeah, well. It is good?"

      "Yes."

       Sam said nothing to this, rubbing his eyes. _You've got to be kidding me..._ his phone lit up and chimed on the counter. He couldn't read the sender of the message upside down, and with Jess sitting there he wondered if moving to check it would be a good idea. He finished his coffee and poured another, wishing for something stronger.

     "So, anyways," Jess tossed her long blonde hair and continued. "My dad is having a lunch for them, down on the harbor. You'll be coming, right?"

     "Today?" She nodded. "I can't today. I have, uhh-"

     "Family stuff," She finished his sentence, clearly less than pleased.

      He took a deep breath and moved around the counter, pulling her barstool until she was facing him. Her expression did not change, but she did allow him to put his hands on her shoulders. “Jess,” he began. “I can’t turn away from my family, not again. They need me, and I don’t want to be the absent-“ he bit his lip, not sure he wanted to share his secret yet.

     “The absent what?” She crossed her arms. “The absent father?”

      Her accusation hit Sam completely out of left field. “What? What? No, no, not- no!” He stuttered, shaking his head. “How could you even think that?”

    “So you haven’t been with anyone else?” Sam gulped, wondering if he should mention Bela. He figured that he might as well, since if Jess was bothering to ask she probably knew. He had paused, frowning, just long enough for her to continue on. “Not _Ruby?”_

     Another curveball. He was relieved that he could at least answer “No” honestly to this one. Jess held up his phone, which he could see now she had picked up while he was distracted with his coffee. Sure enough, he could read Ruby’s name on top of a single text message, with a word that looked suspiciously like _last night._

     He was too shocked to think of anything to say that might save this conversation. “She’s a friend of Jo’s,” He subconsciously settled on the truth. “We’ve all been hanging out in a group this weekend.”

    “You were on her Instagram page.”

     Sam’s hands froze, still wrapped around Jess’ shoulders.

    “You still haven’t read Brady’s texts, or listened to my voicemail. But you can find her on Instagram?”

    And Sam thought he was going to end up in trouble for the family crisis. “I’m spending time at the bar today, I promised Ellen I would help her with a few lights. We’re having dinner to celebrate my little brother coming in to town.”

    “You don’t have a little brother.”

    “Surprise!” Sam said weakly. “I don’t want to be the absent _older brother,_ I was going to say.”

     Jess huffed. “Well that sounds like _so_ much fun,” her tone scathing.

    Sam sat quiet for a moment. “Why did you come here this morning, Jess?” He asked softly, heart thumping.

    “Does it matter?”

    “Yes!” Sam leaned in to kiss her, but she tipped her head away. “Yes, it matters. I’m just confused. You wanted to take a break, and you haven’t wanted to talk-“

     Jess cut him off with a haughty toss of her curls, pulling back from him so that his hands fell from her shoulders. “We are on a break. I came over to give you a chance, to invite you to lunch, but it looks like you aren’t interested.” Lightning fast, she dropped his phone on the counter like it had burned her and grabbed her purse, whirling out the front door.

    “Wait!” He caught up to her on the landing just outside, daring to reach out to her arm. “Jess, just wait, talk to me-“

    She pushed him away, shrieking something that Sam couldn’t quite understand. He fell back against the railing, stunned, as she stormed her way down to her car parked on the street below. A neighbor a few doors down gave him a sympathetic look, but he wasn’t paying enough attention to notice.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor warning- castiel has sort of a mini meltdown/panic attack at the beginning. didn't know if that would bother anybody.

            Castiel woke up early, with the sounds of the city.

            _Sunday._

He rubbed his eyes and groaned.

            _I love big cities… I love big cities…_ He repeated it several times, like a mantra, before rolling over to check the time.

            06:13. _Awesome._

            It was true, of course. Well, half-true. He loved big cities: the energy, the variety. The anonymity, most of all. He loved apartment fires, and high profile calls and the echo of the siren against the tall buildings.

            The suburbs were boring, the calls were boring. It had been almost a year before he had seen an actual fire. He missed his yard, though, with his patio furniture that was always warm from the sun. And barbecue. _God, he missed barbecue._ He was spoiled, of course, born and bred in Carolina. There was a place in West Roxbury that was definitely decent, but it just made him nostalgic.

            _Sunday._

            It was his last day before starting work. He would shadow the retiring captain for 10 days, and then he was on his own. But as he lay in bed, nestling deeper into his blankets, he could hardly contain his excitement. The city of Boston was a big, beating heart. Messy but predictable, strong but easily torn, the streets bled for their people just as much as they bled in return. He had grown up in the deep south, lived in the nation’s capital, but Boston was the first place he had ever been that struck him as true blue American.

            In the back of his mind, he wondered if this was such a good idea after all.

            Shaking off his blankets and his doubt, Castiel forced himself to stand and stretch. Shirtless, he padded softly in to his little kitchen. He had to open and close the drawer under his coffee maker several times before his brain can finally accept it- _he was out of coffee._

            And with that, he was on the ground, head in his hands. This was all too much, this was a mistake. He should never have left, never have stormed out on him. Things must have been fixable, _right?_

            He spent hours, days, weeks, on his kitchen floor, curled up against the cabinets. His hands and arms shook so much he was sure they’d break off and he just felt so _heavy._ A car door slams outside, snapping him back to an over-saturated reality. He straightened his legs and rests his hands on the hard tile, breathing deeply. He hadn’t actually spent more than a few minutes on the floor. His arms are not going to fall off. He made the right choice, Boston was the right choice…

            A dog barking pulled him out of his haze for good and he stood up slowly. Not daring to look at the coffee maker, he finds a pen and notepad and wanders around his bare kitchen, making out a grocery list.

            Coffee. _Moving away was the right choice._ Milk. _This is the new start I have always wanted._ Eggs. _I am strong enough to make my own decisions._ He had about half a loaf of bread left. Bagels? _This will be good for my career._ If he had bagels, he needed cream cheese. _I am a firefighter and a city like this is everyone’s dream._ He pushed around boxes in his pantry. Pasta. _I have nothing to be ashamed of._ Cereal. _I have nothing to be ashamed of._ Some sort of fruit? Apples. _I have nothing to be ashamed of._

            Castiel stuck his list to the fridge with a magnet while he changed. He pulled a shirt from his closet, picking up last night’s jeans. He congratulated himself on his only momentary breakdown looking for his shoes (one of them had somehow rolled under the bed) and decided to add ice cream to his list, as a treat. Or maybe, he mused, shrugging into his long tan coat, he should reward himself by stopping for coffee on his way to the store. Or with some sort of pastry, from that little Italian bakery.

            He ended up deciding on the latter, his heart set on something warm and flaky and drizzled with honey. The tiny old man behind the counter recognized Castiel from his previous visit and nodded when he walked through the door, pausing only a moment from a stack of boxes in front of him. An even tinier old woman came around the corner from the back, with two more cake boxes to add to the stack. The two spoke for a moment, before the old man shook his head. He muttered something else, wiping his hands on his apron and disappearing into the kitchen where his wife had just came from.

            “Do you need help?” The woman stood on tiptoes to see Castiel over her glass display case.

            He pointed out his selection and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders.

            “You should have dressed warmer,” the woman said, wrapping his croissant up in cellophane. “It’s freezing in the mornings. Every day I tell my grandson, ‘ _Tato, little one, wear a jacket!’_ Every day he laughs at me, but I watch him walk away. He is cold.” She eyes Castiel up and down, withholding his pastry. “Did your nonna not tell you to wear a jacket?”

            Castiel couldn’t help but grin, shrugging. “I guess I didn’t listen to her.”

            The little grandma rolled her eyes, muttering something else under her breath. Her husband had returned again, with a stack of papers and receipts. “Raffie, leave the man alone. You can’t be the grandma of the whole neighborhood.”

            “Watch me!” she exclaimed, winking at Castiel. “Did you find the order?”

            The man sighed and rubbed his eyes, handing over one of the papers from his stack. The woman’s face scrunched up, eyes flickering from the paper to the boxes and then back again.

            “My tato, never listens! Just like you!” she jabs a finger at Castiel, but doesn’t appear as exasperated as she sounds. More amused than anything else. “If your nonna asks you to make four cakes, do you make five?”

            Castiel shrugs again, wondering if he will ever actually get his pastry.

            The woman eyes him up and down again, softer, punching his order into the ancient cash register in front of her. “Poor boy. Your name?”

            “Castiel.” He offers his hand out to the woman and she shakes it, impressed.

            “Ahh, Angelo!” She hands him the little paper bag but holds his hand, telling him to wait. She takes one of the boxes from the counter behind her and walks around the glass display case, pressing it into his arms.

            “No, no, I could never-” Castiel tries to stammer, but the man behind the counter shakes his head, eyes glinting.

            “Shh, Angelo. Listen to your nonna,” She places her hand on her chest, solemnly. “You need a cake and you need to dress warm. Understand?”

            He nods and she smiles, speaking again in Italian. Her husband made some sort of phrase of agreement, and the two disappear together into the kitchen, leaving Castiel standing in the middle of the café.

            Just a few blocks out from his apartment, he finds himself gravitating in to the open door of a coffee shop, with little tiny tables and comfy looking chairs. He had finished his pastry by now, but still found it hard to order and pay for coffee with the large cake box in his hands. He sank in to the only empty table left before lifting the lid to take a peek. It was some sort of chocolate Bundt with thick icing and a little toothpick banner that read _CONGRATULATIONS!_

            “Can I sit here? I won’t stay long.”

            Castiel looked up, meeting the eyes of a woman in a pantsuit. He nodded and she quickly pulled out a chair, looking at Castiel gratefully.

            “Thank you so much, I just want to warm up and finish my coffee.” Her voice was cool and pleasant. “My name is Hannah.”

            “Castiel,” He said, rearranging his grocery bags to make room for the newcomer.

            She took a sip of her coffee, light blue eyes never leaving his. “Congratulations?”

            “Mix up,” He began, chuckling. “I was just in the right place at the right time.”

            “That makes two of us,” Hannah said quietly, smiling at him. He flushed and cleared his throat, ready to excuse himself when she laid a hand on his. “I meant my coffee,” she held up the little cup. “My coffee was free today too.”

            He pulled the little banner of out the box and held it out to her. “This is much more appropriate for you, then.” She hadn’t moved her hand yet. As starved as he was for human contact, the attention made his skin itch. Kind and beautiful women were practically the scourge of his existence. He needed his own little toothpick banner, to stick right into his hair. _I’M GAY!_ But then again, coming out so publicly had caused him problems more than once now…

            Hannah moved her hand to stir sugar and wave the steam of her drink out of her face. They sat in silence for a few minutes more as Hannah busied herself with her phone and Castiel just drank his coffee, looking anywhere but at her face.

            “What do you do?” She asked politely.

             Castiel relaxed. Small talk he could handle. “I just moved here recently. But I’ll be working with the fire department.”

             Hannah’s eyes lit up and she leaned in excitedly. “I’ll have to remember that. I’m a journalist, I do freelance in the city,” As she spoke she dug her phone back out of the pocket of her overcoat. It was one of the larger smartphones, and the case had several slots like a wallet. She handed him a business card, but not before scribbling something on the back. And with that she was off, pausing at the door of the little shop to give Castiel one final smile.

_Call me please, I’d love to get to know you :)_

             Castiel stashed the card in his pocket quickly, as if it had burned him.

             The final few streets back to the Roadhouse were much busier than they had been when he had set off for the store. Young couples with strollers weaved in between the streetlamps and dogs pulled on their leashes, straining towards cats. Castiel let himself be lost in the ebb and flow, strangely comforted every time he was jostled by a person who wasn’t paying attention to their surroundings. A small city where everyone knows your name is only fun if those people aren’t whispering every time you pass by.

             He had been gone, all in all, about an hour and a half. He let himself in through the basement door of the Roadhouse (Ellen had entrusted him with a key) and followed his ears in to the kitchen, where it sounded like his hosts were in for the day.

             Sure enough, Ellen was flipping on lights and warming up computers when he knocked gently on one of the wooden posts of the bar to get her attention. She turned and smiled at him, beckoning him over.

            “Good morning,” he said, setting his bags down. “Opening early today?”

            “Noon, like every Sunday,” Ellen replied. “Getting some breakfast ready for my kiddos.” She glanced up at the ceiling. Castiel already knew that Sam and Dean had spent the night at Jo’s last night. They had kept him awake. “Which you qualify as, for the time being. Eggs?” She wasn’t asking, she was telling. Castiel was reminded of his new Italian grandma down the street.

            “Fried, medium. Let me put my things upstairs, I’ll be back down.” Ellen waved over her shoulder, already clicking the pilot light on the big stove top.

            “On your way back, you can grab me my bar rags from the laundry room.”

             Castiel smiled. He was really beginning to like his little Boston not-quite-family family. Bobby Singer was sitting at the bar when he returned, already halfway finished with his own plate. Him and Ellen talked while Castiel ate. He wasn’t really paying attention, so much as enjoying the company.

             His eyes wandered again to the pictures tacked to the walls. Ellen and Bobby and Jo were heavily featured, as were Sam and Dean. Several of the bar regulars were in a few of them as well, with lots more containing pictures of people Castiel had never seen. Some of the papers were faded and discolored, some even in black and white, while others appeared brand new. There was one of Dean in a suit and tie, smiling proudly in front of an elementary school. Sam, in a cap and gown, held a diploma in another. There was Jo in front of a fire truck. A larger one featured Ellen, sitting in the bar where they stood now. ‘ _Twenty Years!’_ was handwritten across the bottom of the picture. Castiel could tell that something had been written on the back, but he couldn’t read what it was. The older (and obviously more precious) pictures were hung up around the cash register where customers couldn’t reach them. These almost all contained much younger versions of Bobby and Ellen as well as three children who could only have been Sam, Dean, and Jo. Castiel recognized the Grand Canyon, Disneyland, and various other landmarks around the East Coast. His eyes found the favorite of his pictures and he blushed, hoping that Ellen and Bobby weren’t paying attention. It was clearly a picture of Dean, quite a few years before, sitting shirtless on a pier with a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other. His freckles were lit up by the sun and he was smirking. The boy looked like he should be a soap opera star. Or an underwear model. Actually, he should _definitely_ be an underwear model, Castiel decided.

            “Castiel, what are you up to today?” Bobby asked after finishing his meal. The two men got along easily.

             Castiel shrugged and drained his orange juice. “Don’t know,” He admitted. “I start at the station tomorrow, so maybe a quiet day around home would be a good idea.”

            “Family dinner, here tonight around five or so,” Ellen told him, watching his eyes carefully. She was so sweet to him, especially after he had accidentally-on-purpose spilled his life to her during his tenant interview. “You’re more than welcome.”

            “Please do,” Bobby sighed, taking off his baseball cap to run his hands through his hair. “It’s gonna be a wreck, with the new boy here. Maybe having more people around will keep Dean in check.”

 _Dean?_ Castiel perked up. “Wouldn’t miss it Ellen.” He paused. “I’ll bring a cake for dessert!”

             Bobby returned his cap. “Knew I liked this boy.”


	10. Chapter 10

         Castiel stood in the shower, letting the hot water pound down onto his shoulders and soothe his aching back. He had finished actually washing up and was just procrastinating, killing the time that he should have spent sleeping. When he closed his eyes, the only thing he could see was Dean’s bright green stare. Castiel wondered vaguely what Dean’s type was, because if he knew one thing for sure it was that the younger man was swinging for his team. Men who are completely heterosexual _do not_ look at other men the way Dean was at the party last night. Castiel strayed down to his cock, thick and hard between his legs.

           His heart jumped as he heard his phone ringing in the bedroom, but after hesitation he decided against going to answer it. He wrapped his hands tightly around his cock, using the hot water as lubricant and came quickly to the thought of Dean, pressed hard against him.

            One last quick wash and Castiel stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel loosely around his hips. He brushed his teeth and shaved, wiping the steam off the mirror to look at himself. He had brought his phone into the bathroom and set it on the counter by the sink, but hadn’t yet steeled up the nerve to actually check who the missed call was from. With a deep breath, he unlocked his screen.

**Gabriel (Missed Call)**

Castiel was instantly put at ease. He chose instead to text his brother, typing out a hasty apology for being in the shower and missing his call. He hadn’t had a chance to do anything else before there was a knock at his front door. Castiel looked around for some clothes, anything to get out of the towel, when the visitor began to knock more urgently. Figuring it was either Bobby or Ellen, he pulled the door open.

            _Oh._ It was Dean. Castiel was equally pleased and embarrassed about his lack of clothes. Dean, however, was downright mortified.

            “Hey, uhh, wow. Umm,” Dean spluttered, crimson red. Castiel put his arm up and leaned against his door frame, cocking his head. “I, uhh, Jo-” He coughed loudly and looked up to some point above Castiel’s head, determined not to look at him. “Jo is using her shower, and I really gotta use the bathroom,” He said quickly, as if he had rehearsed it. “Umm, but, if yours isn’t… open… either, then I could-”

             Castiel stepped back from the door, gesturing for Dean to come in. “Just finished in the shower. Getting dressed. Feel free to borrow my utilities.”

             Dean stood in the doorway, shocked. “You aren’t dressed. You aren’t wearing any clothes at all.” They definitely were statements, not questions. Castiel smirked, pleased with himself.

            “Bathroom is in the bedroom. On the left.”

             “Your bedroom. Ok. Alright then, thanks.” Dean hurried in, still refusing to make anything that could be considered eye contact.

              As he heard the bathroom door shut (slam shut), Castiel started to feel just a little bit bad. Moving into his room to sit on the bed, he sighed. He had obviously made Dean very uncomfortable even though he hadn’t meant to. This was pretty much the beginning of a bad porno. _What if Dean is involved with someone?_ He thought, heart sinking. He didn’t have much time to ponder it, because the door flung open and there was Dean.

             “Gabby texted you,” He said, holding Castiel’s phone out to him.

             “Gabby?” Castiel got up to take his phone from Dean, trying not to brush the man’s fingers in the exchange.

             “Gabriella?” Dean’s expression was questioning. “She texted you. I didn’t read it, I promise, it was just, you know, on the counter and I was in there and it made a noise… So…” He trailed off, eyes on his feet. Castiel noticed that he hadn’t stepped back from him.

             “Oh, Gabriel!” He figured it out.

              “A guy?!” Dean seemed breathless. Castiel could no longer read his expression.

              “My brother,” Castiel assured him, opening the text.

**Gabriel: Morning, little bro. Do you spend all your time jacking off in the shower? Cuz I’ve called you 800 times this week and haven’t heard a thing back.**

              Dean must have felt embarrassed in the silence, and rambled on. “Sorry, then. It looked like Gabriella. Dyslexic.” He winced, and Castiel was sure that he hadn’t meant to share something so personal.

             “I call him Gabby,” Castiel joked, throwing his phone behind him on the bed. “It makes him angry.” Dean was still looking at his feet. “He calls me Cassie, though,” Castiel went on, hoping to ease the situation. “So he deserves it.” A small smile passed over Dean’s face as he looked up.

             “So, uhh, no Gabby’s?” He met Castiel’s eyes for the first time.

             Castiel shook his head, daring to step forward and stand up straighter. He was very, very aware that his towel was slung low on his hips and, with too much movement, would surely fall down. “Not for me.”

             Dean chewed on his lip for just a millisecond before blurting out, “No Gabby’s or no women?”

            “No women.”

             Dean rolled his shoulders, and Castiel could have sworn that the younger man had shivered. “Boston is a big city, lots of people to meet.” Castiel picked up on the gender neutral term quickly.

             “I’m not looking to meet a woman.” He said, lowering his voice.

              The effect was instantaneous. Dean blushed again, shuffling his feet. Castiel distinctly saw a bulge in the front of the man’s pants, which he was clearly hunching over to hide.  He willed himself not to think about it, knowing for sure that he would lose his towel if he got an erection of his own. Dean was still moving his feet when he caught on the shirt Castiel had worn earlier to go shopping. He stooped to pick it up, gulping hard as he passed Castiel’s waist on the way up. Wordlessly, he held the shirt out.

              “Am I making you uncomfortable?” Castiel asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Maybe he was trying to look defiant, maybe he was subtlety trying to show off his arms. He couldn’t quite decide.

               Dean coughed again, eyes back to Castiel’s. He reached out to Dean slowly, continuing. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll put the shirt on.”

               “If you’re not?” Dean squeaked.

                Castiel licked his lips, slowly, before answering. “I’d rather not.”

               “Put your shirt on, or make me uncomfortable?” Poor Dean, trying so hard to gain control of the conversation.

               Castiel reached out to grab the shirt, this time making no effort to keep their fingers from connecting. “Ideally, neither.” Dean’s expression was unreadable again, and he didn’t say anything. Fingers still touching over the soft material, Castiel stepped closer to Dean. He was so close now that he could taste the toothpaste on the other man’s breath. He stopped just short and gently tugged the shirt out of Dean’s grasp.

            He could see Dean breathing deeply, rapidly, as he dropped his shirt back on the ground beside him. Dean’s eyes followed the shirt to the floor, and the raked hungrily back up Castiel’s body. His eyes were clear now, his face only said one thing: _lust._

            And that was it. Castiel grabbed the lapels of Dean’s plaid overshirt, pulling him in. Dean responded with his whole body, grabbing Castiel’s bicep roughly in one hand and his hair with the other. Castiel kissed him hard, biting his lower lip. Dean gasped and as his lips parted, Castiel plunged in his tongue. Dean shivered once again, moaning just the slightest bit. Castiel pulled back but Dean followed, not allowing him to break the kiss. Threading his hands in to the short hairs of Dean’s lower neck, he pulled the man’s head back to expose his neck. Slipping his hands up under Dean’s shirts, he nibbled on the man’s earlobe. “Take these off,” Castiel whispered roughly, pulling at the fabric. Dean did as he was told, and moved down to unzip his jeans without any further hesitation. With the denim around his ankles, he moved to kick them off without breaking contact with Castiel and ended up tripping himself. Castiel caught him, hauling him up and twisting him over to the bed. Dean eagerly allowed himself to be thrown down, propping himself up on his elbows to stare hungrily at Castiel.

            His towel had fallen from around his waist, and he absolutely swaggered under Dean’s admiring gaze. Dean scrambled back on the bed as Castiel approached, using one arm to drag himself backwards and the other to grab Castiel and pull him back for more hungry, hasty kisses. His stubble felt amazing, grating up against Castiel’s skin, and his muscular body rippled under Castiel’s hands. Dean’s dick was huge, and throbbed as Castiel lowered himself to lay over top of Dean, grinding his hips down and catching the two cocks between them. Dean’s hand moved down to stroke himself, and then Castiel, closing his eyes and whimpering as Castiel’s tongue was back onto his neck, tracing his veins up to his ear.

            “Is this ok?” Castiel asked softly, chest heaving. Dean didn’t answer. “Hey, hey,” Castiel stopped, using one hand to prop himself up and the other under Dean’s chin to guide the man, force him to look up. “Stop.” Dean finally met his eyes, pupils blown wide. “Is this ok?” Castiel asked again. Dean nodded, kind of, until Castiel leaned down to kiss him again.

            “No, no!” He said quickly. Castiel sat up, letting Dean out from under him. “No, no, this isn’t- this is not,” He jumped out of the bed like he had been electrocuted. “This is not ok. I’m not, this-” Dean dropped to the floor, trying to cover himself and find his pants, pulling them on and buttoning them faster than Castiel had ever seen. He stumbled around, once again refusing to meet Castiel’s eyes. “No, this is not ok. I don’t know what you think of me, man, but-” He took a deep breath, scooping his shirts back up from the floor and pulling them on, squirming into his plaid overshirt inside-out.

            “Dean-” Castiel was shocked, still trying to process what was happening.

            Hearing his name was like having a bucket of ice water thrown on him. He calmed down, deadly cold, and glared at Castiel. “I don’t know what you think this was, but it’s not. I don’t know who you think I am, but you’re wrong.” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the small apartment, slamming the door. Castiel could hear him pounding down the stairs.

             

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short, filler chapter

           “Hey, Bullwinkle! Over here!”

            Sam startled, looking up and around. He was in the hardware store, getting the lights that Ellen needed. He caught sight of Meg at the end of the aisle, with a very tall redheaded girl dressed all in black.

            He waved as the girls came to find him. Meg’s cart was full of paint and shower fixtures. The tall girl looked like she was sizing him up, and wasn’t necessarily impressed with what she saw. It put Sam on edge but he chose to ignore her, waving at Meg instead.

             “Abby, this is Sam,” Meg waved her hand between the two of them. “The one Ruby was telling you about.”

            _The one Ruby was telling you about._ Sam wasn’t sure how to interpret that, given the way he was still being stared down. He extended his hand. “Abby, huh? Short for Abigail?”

            The girl kept her arms down by her sides. “No.”

            “Oh. Ok.” He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “It’s nice to meet you, Abby.”

  
            “We’ve met before,” She answered coolly. “Cain’s sister.”

            It clicked and his heart sank. Cain was the name of Jess’ sister’s boyfriend-turned-fiancé. Abby probably knew at the very least that he wasn’t exactly single, and she lived with Ruby. He could only imagine the stories being exchanged over coffee in that apartment. Sam didn’t know what to say, so he settled for some sort of grunt.

            “Will I see you today at the Moore’s party?”

            “No,” answered Sam firmly, offering no explanation. Meg’s expression was curious, but by contrast Abby finally smiled and reached out to shake Sam’s hand.

            “Bummer,” she said, voice oozing contempt. Abby walked away, further down the aisle, as Sam turned to Meg.

            “Is Ruby here too?” He asked.

            “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased, turning away to inspect lightbulbs. “She’s asleep. She works tonight.” Sam wanted to ask her more, anything more, but Abby called and Meg punched his shoulder lightly before walking away, leaving Sam to his thoughts. He finally pulled out his phone to check the texts that he had missed.

**Brady Johnson: Coming home?**

**Not with Bela again, are you?**

              **Going out for groceries. Need anything?**

**Bela Talbot: Around tonight, Sam?**

**Bobby Singer: Will you be at this party?**

**Jo Harvelle: You can't just leave for the fireworks, loser. Where are you?**

            He didn't bother to respond to any of them, as they had all been sent yesterday. Ruby's was the only new one, sent this morning when he was with Jess. 

**Ruby: Hope you feel bad about running away last night.**

           He didn’t know how to respond to this, so he slipped his phone back into his pocket.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay! more angry dean!

          Dean sank down behind his door, breathing deeply. After leaving Castiel's he had stormed across the street to his own room, offering no explanation to Rufus. He rested with his arms resting on his knees for a while, shaking with anger.

_Anger?_ Said the little voice in the back of his head. _Are you sure?_

_Shut up!_ He told the voice.

_He's an awesome guy. Hot as hell. Good kisser- damn good._

         Dean let his head fall back against the wall, hard. He was so not in the mood for this internal debate. The kid was coming in today. Dean just couldn't think of him as his brother. Sam was his brother. If he was being honest, the idea terrified him: John wasn't exactly a monk. There could be many, many more little brothers in the country, born after one-night stands or (more likely) after sex was exchanged as payment for drugs. It made his stomach churn.

         Things were going great for Dean. His job was fantastic, his new friends were safe and dependable. He was saving money and getting healthy, no longer living on diner food and beer. The last thing he needed was a new punk in his life, pulling him back in to drugs. He had just accepted the full time position next year, a relapse would ruin everything.

_Relapse._ He gulped. He had been clean for almost two years. His heart ached as he remembered the circumstances and his thoughts turned to Lisa. He had considered calling, since getting the teaching position. " _I'm a better man now,"_ he would say. _"I'd be a good father for Ben..."_ But Ben wasn't his, as much as he may have wanted to be. Dean blamed himself for getting comfortable, for settling in to the family role. Lisa had always said that it was unlikely. There were more than enough men who it could have been. Dean wanted to kick himself for never actually going through with the blood test. _If I ignore the problem, it isn't actually a problem._

         Until a man had knocked on the door. Dean could remember the night as if it were last week. He could remember what they were eating, what was on TV. He remembered what the man looked like. Dean had always told himself that Ben just looked like Lisa, _but no- Ben looked like his father._ Dean wasn't ashamed for the yelling, for ripping up the blood results, or for hitting the man. He was only ashamed that Ben had been watching, wide eyed, clutching the stair railing as if it would save him from the fight. Dean rubbed his wrists unconsciously, feeling the ghost of the sharp metal handcuffs. He had spent the night in jail, before being told in the morning that charges were being dropped. _"But only if..."_ Dean felt sick. His things were in a box in the living room by the time he had made his way home. Lisa had been crying, he could tell, but she refused to talk about it. He begged, until catching sight of the man standing at the top of the stairs, smug. Ben wasn't home- " _At his friends"-_ and Dean wasn't allowed to say goodbye.

         It was an isolated incident. Well, a small collection of isolated incidents. But Dean was still beating himself up for it, three years later. Lisa had never found out, had believed him to have been clean since they were 19. Dean was sure that Sam knew, but it had never been brought up.

         Hearing Bobby let himself in downstairs, Dean rose from the floor. He got in the shower, mostly because he could hear Bobby calling up the stairs for him. He stayed under the water until he was sure that no one was coming to find him. Wiping the steam off the mirror, his anger flared.

_Castiel had given him a hickey._ Dean rubbed at the spot, just where his neck joined to his shoulder. He had half a mind to stomp back and scream at the guy again. He had just sat there, frozen, blue eyes wide. Dean had almost wanted the other man to yell back, or to hit him, but he didn't. He ignored the hickey for the time being, spinning in the mirror. He had put on about 30 pounds of muscle, and he not-so-secretly loved the way his skin rippled when he twisted and flexed. The track marks had disappeared now, giving way to thick veins and visible tendons. Women loved a guy who kept fit, but the best reactions he had gotten were from men. As upset as he was about what he had allowed to happen in Castiel's apartment, something small and warm bloomed in his chest when he recalled the way Castiel had looked at him, at his body. The hickey wasn't that big anyways, or that dark. It could easily be covered. He took his time getting dressed, running his hand through his hair. He changed his shirt twice (plaid button up to AC/DC tee before settling on a grey henley), all the while firmly telling himself that he DID NOT care what he looked like, going back to the Roadhouse. This was supposed to be some big happy family dinner, so Castiel wouldn't be there...

         The Roadhouse was nearly full when Dean stepped through the door. Bobby had gone to pick up Adam from the airport, and Ellen was surely working on their own dinner in the back. Sam was standing on the bar, a screwdriver in one hand, messing around with the light socket on the ceiling above. He looked up and nodded when Dean passed. Dean thought that his little brother looked a little preoccupied, but wrote it off as the new kid. He made himself busy running food and taking orders. Jo was making drinks behind the bar, and Sam joined Ash in the kitchen when he was done with the lights. The team ran flawlessly, and Dean was happy.

         They could almost hear Bobby’s car roaring down the street before they could see it. Ellen came out of the kitchen and motioned over to Sam and Dean, hanging up her towel. “They’re gonna need some help over there,” she explained, tossing the keys to the register over to Ash. “Getting him settled in and all that.” Sam nodded and slipped his apron over his head.

        “Uhh, Ellen, I think I’m gonna stay here. Help Krissy and Ash clear the place out.” Dean said.

         Sam raised his eyebrows, glancing between his big brother and Ellen. She stood to face him, hands on her hips. “Oh, are you now?” The stare she fixed him with was probably responsible for global warming. Dean looked to Sam for help, who shook his head and promptly turned on his heel to walk across the street. Dean watched him go, scowling.

        “Coward!” He called, jokingly, to Sam’s retreating figure. He was hoping for a laugh from Ellen.

        “You wanna talk about cowards, boy, leave your brother out of that one. You’re the one trying to avoid a fifteen year old whose mom just died.”

         Dean stood silent, debating on how to answer. On one hand, Ellen had him down to a T. “I don’t want this, Ellen. I want things to stay the way they are.”

       “Dean,” she sighed. “Dean, no one is exactly thrilled about this. Least of all, me. Your dad has caused me no end of trouble, and if I could-” she shook her head, uncrossing her arms to reach out and grab Dean’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s not Adam’s fault. Let’s try to get along. For Bobby’s sake?”

       “For Bobby,” Dean chewed his lip before asking, "Can Charlie come for dinner tonight?"

       "Sure," Ellen called over her shoulder. "Castiel is coming, too.”

        Dean’s stomach dropped to the floor.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam wasn’t quite sure what to expect of this new younger brother. Bobby had told him so little about Adam, but Sam had been assuming a ratty, shifty, underfed kid. Bruised skin and hollow eyes and feet that had a few too many miles for a child. The kind he had been so used to seeing, the kind he had been himself.

It definitely wasn’t what he was seeing in front of him. Lean and blonde, with chiseled features reminiscent of Dean. Adam was curled up on the couch, blue eyes glued to an iPhone, but the position wasn’t enough to hide the designer brands on his clothes. He looked up when Sam walked in the room, before looking sharply to Bobby. Sam suddenly felt very aware of his dirty tennis shoes and desperate need for a haircut.

“Adam, this is Sam.” Bobby gave Sam a not-so-gentle push into the study, clearing his throat. “Sam, Adam.”

Adam stood up, using his iPhone free hand to shake Sam’s hand. There were no callouses on the boys palms, very unlike his two older brothers. But his smile was warm and his eyes didn’t betray any ill intentions. He looked like the younger brother of any of Sam’s classmates, or the sons of his bosses at American Express that used the company gym on the second floor after classes.

“Sam! And…Dean, right?” asked Adam, looking around.

“Dean’s across the street, just me for now,” Sam was still reeling. When Adam returned to his phone, the two older men exchanged raised eyebrows and Bobby grimaced. Ellen was their saving grace, pushing through the front door and announcing herself loudly. Sam stood back as he watched Ellen and Adam exchange greetings, wishing for the support of his older brother. _If Dean were here…_ In all truth, Dean would probably make things even more awkward. But even a cold shoulder was still a shoulder to lean on. He wound up in the arm chair across from the couch (where Adam had resumed his earlier post) sipping the beer that Ellen had thrust into his hands before disappearing upstairs. Adam was onto his second Coke, making polite small talk with Sam in between the constant chiming of his phone. It wasn’t until Sam had mentioned that his roommate, Brady, was a plastic surgery resident that Adam finally gave him his full attention.

“Does he work around here?” Adam said excitedly, phone forgotten on the coffee table. Sam tried to examine the screen upside down but he couldn’t make out anything. Just a Facebook news feed.

“Yeah, Mass Ge- Massachusetts General. It’s close to here, just a few T stops north.” Internally, it clicked that Ruby worked there too, supposedly working tonight. _Would it be too cheesy to drop by?_

“Man, that’s cool. What does he do? Cosmetic work, prosthetics, trauma?”

“Umm,” Sam struggled to remember. Most of the conversations Brady shared about work were about the hot nurses or lazy surgery techs, not the actual work itself. “Well, he’s a resident right now. So he kinda does everything. I know he wants to do cosmetics, because that’s where the money is.” _And the tits,_ but Sam chose not to share that last bit.

“I want to be a doctor,” Adam said matter of factly, sitting up straighter on the couch. “The school I came from, it was this amazing college prep school. I was taking a bunch of science and anatomy classes, and I was doing really well.” Adam didn’t beam with pride the way that Dean did, he flat out stated it. This was a boy who was used to being told that he excelled, who never had to struggle with a parent about whether school was important or not. John was a high school dropout, who joined the Marines to get his parents off his back. Sam found it hard to imagine that he was altogether thrilled with his youngest son going to a private school. “One of the teachers was friends with the Chief of Medicine at the teaching hospital, and they promised to take us on a few patient rounds one day.” Adam’s excitement ended there and he frowned. “But that’s whatever, now.” He picked up his phone, breathing heavily.

Sam looked away, unsure of what to do. With an encouraging look from Bobby in the kitchen, he gathered his courage. “Hey, I could talk to Brady. We have other friends, too, with some connections at the hospital. I’m sure we could find someone to let you shadow them.” Adam looked up, grateful. Sam swore he could see tears in the boys eyes.

“We got a man staying in one of our apartments now, Castiel,” Ellen said, walking down the stairs. She was freshly showered and changed, and holding several paper bags. “He’s the new Captain at my daughter’s fire station. Ain’t exactly the most glamorous thing, but I bet hanging out at the station would be fun.”  She set her paper bags down on the kitchen counter (Sam could hear glass clink) and pecked Bobby on the cheek. She mumbled something in his ear and he nodded, before she turned to the boys in the study. “Bar should be closed now. We’re gonna be heading over to make dinner. More than welcome to come, Adam, or you can stay and rest before joining us.”

“Can I use the bathroom down here?” Asked Adam, pointing down the hall to the guest bathroom. “There’s a bunch of stuff in the bathroom upstairs and it makes me feel kind weird.”

“That would be Dean’s stuff,” Ellen put her hands on her hips. “And-”

“Sure you can, boy,” Bobby interrupted Ellen gruffly. “Just make sure you clean up after yourself.” Adam appeared to have missed the tension, but it was not lost on Sam. Only once Adam was safely upstairs and the bedroom door had closed did Ellen sigh.

“What the hell was that?” She rounded on Bobby, who threw up his hands.

“I ain’t gonna argue with the kid, he just got here. No one ever uses that shower anyhow.”

“That’s because we all use the bathrooms upstairs. By our bedrooms.” Ellen harrumphed and pulled her bags closer to the edge of the counter, rummaging through them.

“Look, if he wants to-”

“This ain’t about just _Adam,_ Bobby Singer, this is about Dean too,” Ellen’s voice was soft but determined. “This is just as hard for him, and we don’t need this new boy treating him like a freak and causing any problems.” Bobby shifted on his feet, guilty. “No reason they can’t share the damn bathroom.” She looked like she wanted to continue, but they could hear Adam coming back down the stairs. Ellen shot Bobby a warning look as Adam pulled the door of the bathroom shut behind him. “C’mon, old man, grab these bags for me.”  

“I’ll stay with Adam,” Sam called, downing the last of his beer. “Make sure he gets over ok.”

“Five o’clock, Sam,” Bobby reminded him. “Gives you…two hours.”

Ellen made a detour on her way out the door, stopping to smooth Sam’s hair back from his forehead. “He’s an ok kid, “She nodded at the closed door where Adam was showering. “Just…I’m just worried. About you and Dean. You’re my boys. If this is too much…” Sam let her trail off and she was out the door, following Bobby across the street.

He pulled out his phone and selected Ruby’s text, staring at it for a little bit. He must have typed out a dozen replies, deleting them all, by the time Adam had showered, dressed, and joined him back on the couch.

“So, Dean,” he started, lounging back with yet another Coke. “What’s his deal?”

“What do you mean, _what’s his deal?”_ Sam did his best to remain neutral, and Adam shrugged.

“He’s what, thirty?”

“Twenty-seven,” Sam corrected.

“And still lives at home?”

“He moved in to the area a couple months ago, just started his job as a new grad,” Sam wasn’t sure how much he should tell Adam, knowing that Dean wouldn’t appreciate being brought up in conversation at all. “He’s just saving some money, staying here.”

Adam pursed his lips and looked around the room. “So…Bobby is our uncle?”

Sam was grateful for the change of subject. “Well, no. Technically not. He’s known Dad for a long time, from before-” Sam stopped to clear his throat. “He took us in, Dean and I, when we needed it. He’s more of a father than John ever was.” Sam immediately cringed, regretting the last statement. Dean hated it when he talked like that, he could only imagine what Adam would felt. He rose hastily and crossed the room to the kitchen for another beer. “Want one?” He offered to Adam, who nodded eagerly. He popped the two caps and clinked his glass with Adam’s before taking a swig.

Adam inspected the bottle for a moment before timidly taking a sip. He sputtered, scrunching up his nose, and Sam laughed.

“Not an IPA kind of guy?”

“Uhh, not a beer drinker.” Adam coughed, gripping the bottle in both hands.

“Hard liquor?”

“Uhh, never really drank alcohol at all.” Sam must have looked shocked, because the younger boy hastily said “Well, I had some champagne on New Year’s last year. And one time, we had a pool party, and my mom let me have some of her margarita.” He tried drinking some more beer, and at least choked it all down this time.

“I think Dad gave me my first beer when I was twelve,” Sam said, tilting his head. “Eleven, maybe?” Adam’s jaw dropped. Sam shifted uncomfortably, feeling some guilty need to explain himself, or to defend John. “We had been on the road for a while, and I was really thirsty, but we had no water, only beer. Or whiskey. So, that’s what I had.” Upon explanation, Sam realized he had probably just made everything worse.

Adam shook his head, switching his beer for his Coke.

“Man, Mom would have killed him. She was a little strict, even towards the end.”

“What happened?” Sam asked kindly, leaning forward.

Adam took a deep breath, running his fingers through his wet hair. “She got sick, really sick. Meningitis. Don’t worry, I don’t have it. I’ve been tested pretty extensively. She thought she just had migraines, or something, so she didn’t find out for a while.” His eyes were definitely watery. “She had been sick for kind of a while, in and out of hospitals. In the end, the only option was neurosurgery-” Adam blinked, hard. “And she never woke up. She was in the ICU for about a week, in a coma, but my grandparents couldn’t do it. We all got to say goodbye.” He finished sadly, but no tears spilled over. “So, I’m here.”

_Here._ It sounded like what Sam had said, so many years ago, when he ended up _here_ himself. It had been a relief for Sam, a safe haven. For the first time in his life he had attended the same school for more than a month, and he had a chance to make friends and he had his very own room. He joined the theatre club and went to soccer practice two days a week after school, like normal kids did. For him it was a new chance at life, but Adam sounded like he was talking about a death sentence. Clearly, the two sets of brothers had had _very_ different childhoods. Adam had a cellphone and designer clothes and had gone to a charter school, and that didn’t sound much like the child of a meth addict.

“How did your mom meet Dad?”

“They both worked in ‘ _Pharmaceuticals.’”_ Adam sarcastically mimed the air quotes. “She actually really did at the beginning, I don’t even know when it was that she switched over. Apparently she worked for a huge supplier. For the _other_ types of drug addicts.” Adam said, voice dripping with something close to disdain. His mother may have been moving huge amounts of heavy drugs, but it was at least to the “other type.”

Sam knew exactly what he was talking about. There were the junkies, who went days without food just to afford a gram or two and squatted in empty houses to get high. And then there were the rich ones, the athletes and celebrities and high ranking government officials, the “recreational users.” Adam’s mom, whoever she was, must have been unimaginably well off. Adam had never seen the pay-by-the-hour motels that Sam had called home for nearly fourteen years.

Adam wasn’t much in the mood for talking after that, not that Sam could blame him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i love the dynamic between sam and castiel

Castiel had taken another shower, just to wash away Dean. He put all of his groceries away, called his brother, and failed miserably to take a nap before meeting the Harvelle/Singer/Winchester crew for dinner.

Gabriel had been obnoxious, as usual. He wanted Castiel’s exact address (not a chance), to come visit for Christmas (over his dead body), to arrange some sort of extravagant Vegas weekend ( _absolutely_ out of the question), but apparently mostly to convince Castiel to sign up for a dating website (honestly, the nerve of this man).

He loved Gabriel. He was his closest brother in age, and the only brother he was still on good terms with.  Gabriel was…Gabriel. He worked for some long-running TV show, and apparently did nothing but spend a few hours a day on his computer and the rest of his life in big cities with big shot actors going to big parties. Castiel had been to one once, only to wake up in a stranger’s bed with a killer hangover.

Castiel had never had to _come out_ to Gabriel. His brother just seemed to understand one day, as natural as breathing air. He teased him about it, of course, just like he teased him about everything else. But he was almost as much an outcast in their tight, hyper religious family. With their father a minister-turned-senator, anyone who didn’t fit the mold was quickly “dealt with” before the situation could “compromise the family name.” Like when his little sister Ruth got pregnant at fifteen, and when Castiel was impetuously outed not even six months later. Just like that, three family members were gone. His father had his new “Family Man” campaign pictures taken twice that year, once without Ruth and again without Castiel. At least he had had a chance to stick around; his parents “prayed for him” and he resigned himself to shadows and closets. Ruth was taken in by an aunt back home. She sent a postcard when she had the baby.

Despite the staunch upbringing, Castiel was fascinated with theology. To the core of it, the real allure was to know what made people tick. Why they do the things that they did, and the reasoning behind it. It comforted him to be in on the big secret, to walk among the masses with understanding. It made it so much easier to figure everyone out. _Like mind control,_ he had always mused to himself. His knowledge was his protection from a world that wasn’t keen on his existence.

He could hear the commotion below him in the bar. Pots and pans and shouts and laughter. Ellen had filled him in just a little bit this morning, about this brand new surprise son from an estranged father. They were tight-lipped about where John Winchester actually was, but Castiel knew it wasn’t good. Despite being supposedly alive and well, there were no recent pictures of him hung up in the bar. Ellen’s precious photographs told Castiel more about her than he believed she would ever actually say out loud.

He opened up his cake, wondering if he should put it on a plate or just bring it down in the box from the bakery. The _congratulations_ toothpick was stuck up against the side of the box.

“I should go back and get a new banner,” he said to himself, pulling the stick out of the precious icing. “ _It’s A Boy!’_ ” Ellen and Jo, at least, would think it was funny.

He procrastinated for as long as he dared, unsure of his own feelings. On one hand, Dean had kind of almost come on to him. That wasn’t an accidental kiss, that was _passion._ But then he’d wanted to stop. Guilt settled into Castiel’s stomach, quickly joined by dread. If word of this unfavorable encounter reached Ellen or Jo, he could be out of this cozy apartment very quickly. They were Dean’s family. The choice would be obvious.

_And Jo-_ Castiel thought he would be sick, numbly pulling his on his coat with shaking fingers. _That would certainly set Jo against him. Jo, who he worked with. Who was well beloved by the entire department._ In just ten minutes, Castiel had probably ruined everything for himself. The self-doubt from this morning crept back up his neck like a centipede.

He wondered what would be more disasterous: skipping the dinner altogether or trying to act as if nothing would happen. He was either walking into a landmine or a bear trap.

_Schrödinger’s Dinner._

Okay, that was a little funny.

A heavy creaking sound on the stair landing outside ended his pity party.

“The door’s open,” He called out dryly, turning his back to the door.

_It was Dean, of course, come to yell at him. Ellen must have told him about the invitation. It was Dean, it must be, here to fight. To ban him from the party. Or worse, that freezing quiet voice. Jo was with him, she just had to be. With boxes. To pack up what little Castiel had to his name, to throw out to the curb._

“Castiel, hey, sorry to bother you. Ellen mentioned you’d be down soon.”

_Oh, it was Sam._

“Sam!” Castiel turned to look at the man, searching his expression.

_Hardly a man, though._ It was his first time really getting a good look at Sam Winchester, aside from pictures. He was tall and he had broad shoulders, but practically still a child. He couldn’t have been much older than Castiel’s own youngest brother. He didn’t hunch, the way so many adults did. He stood with his shoulders squared and his chin level. Sam didn’t put on shows or fake confidence, he was the embodiment of it.

“Yeah, sorry to kinda barge in,” Sam closed the door behind him and looked around the small kitchen. “What, no decorations?”

Castiel smiled, relaxing quickly. If a storm was coming, Sam would have been his first hint. “Still deciding on the theme.”

“The last tenant had this weird collection of salt and pepper shakers,” Sam shook his head and laughed. “Like, dozens of them.”

“Well _now_ I have to think of something else,” Castiel sat on the couch in order to pull his shoes on and lace them up. “So, can I help you with anything Sam?”

“What kind of phone do you have?” Sam asked, pulling his own out of his pocket. “I’m the only one with an Android, they’re all Apple whores. Anyways, my charger is at my apartment, could I borrow yours for a few hours?”

Thoroughly taken aback, Castiel nodded and showed Sam where he kept the cord to his charger. Right next to the jar of sugar on the counter, so that he could sit and drink his coffee while checking his messages for the day.

“You ok there, man?” Sam asked, looking him in the eyes.  

“Yes,” Castiel replied flatly, turning his attention to the cake box on the counter.

“You can’t lie to a lawyer,” Sam huffed.

Castiel refolded the box, deliberating. _If Dean had wanted to stop because he wasn’t out yet…_ Castiel couldn’t be the one to tell his brother. “I’ve been up all day,” he admitted. “And, uhh, this morning…I feel that I may have gotten off on the wrong foot with someone.”

“Not any of us, right?” Sam’s concern wormed right into Castiel’s heart. He had met this boy what, twice? And here he was, worried that something might be upsetting this practical stranger.

“Someone I might be interested in,” Castiel settled on a half-truth. “Actually, I-”

He was cut off by Bobby, hollering up the stairs from the kitchen.


	15. Chapter 15

5:15, and Dean thought he was golden.

Charlie hadn’t been able to make dinner, naturally, and he had been beginning to get anxious as the clock ran down. He wasn’t even sure which was worse: facing Castiel or meeting the new kid. The exchange with Adam went well, though, even if it was a little tense. Bobby only gave him _three_ death stares. Castiel was looking like a no-show. Ellen let them keep the beer tap open. _Golden._

The big standalone table was crowded and the silverware was mismatched. Two decades of use decorated the plates and bowls, and if they had ever had a pattern it was gone by now. Dean sat deliberately on the end of the table with Jo on his left side. With Adam on the other side of her, Dean didn’t really have to see or talk to the kid at all. Ellen and Bobby took the other end of the table as well, and Sam sat right across from Dean. The two empty seats in the middle made him nervous, but as the dinner deadline came and went he smirked to himself. This was his house, his family, why should he be the one to feel ashamed? Why should he hide away? Rufus stomped his way over from across the street, and Dean let himself be dragged over to the bar with the old man as they poured drinks with Ellen. 

“What do you want to drink, boys?”

_Boys?_ Dean whipped around and sure enough, Castiel was following Sammy out of the kitchen.

He caught sight of Dean and sauntered up to the bar, setting a large white box on the counter and tilting his head. “Whatever’s on tap, Ellen,” Castiel turned to Dean and licked his lips before continuing. “I don’t need anything hard…yet.” And winked.

_Winked_.

At Dean.

In front of Rufus, and Ellen, and everyone else in the whole world.

_Like a damn teenager._

Dean could feel his teeth grinding before he was consciously aware of the act. He wanted to say something, anything, to put this asshole in his place. But before he could even open his mouth, Castiel had already introduced himself to Rufus, accepted his pint glass from Ellen, and seated himself back at the long table. Next to Sammy, across from Dean. ‘Livid’ didn’t even begin to cover the range of emotions Dean was going through. Ellen grabbed his wrist as he poured more whiskey into his glass, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

Dean couldn’t even give Sam an exasperated glare, because of course his little brother was caught up talking to Castiel. The man had taken off his ridiculous trench coat and draped it over the back of his chair. Dean absolutely forbade himself from noticing that he had also rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, showing off his forearms as he drummed his fingers against the table.

“Dean? Anyone home?” Jo said quietly, nudging him with her elbow. He snapped his gaze to meet hers before Castiel or Sam could look up. “Are your kids coming to career day?” Adam was looking down at him too, but everyone else seemed caught up in their own discussion.

“You bet. Is it your shift?” Dean asked her. Every year, the elementary school put on a ‘career day’ style carnival with games and prizes. Local businesses would come out as well: the police department, the fire department, representatives from the hospital, and restaurants and bakeries would cater. Some of the larger companies, from the Financial District, made an appearance too, but Dean’s kindergarteners weren’t remotely interested in that. Not with a real live firetruck in the parking lot.

“It’s _always_ our shift,” Jo rolled her eyes. “I swear, the last two in a row.”

“That means Cas will be there too, won’t you?” Sam butted in to the conversation, bringing Castiel in with him.

“‘ _Cas?’_ ” Dean asked, scathingly.

Castiel didn’t even look up from his mashed potatoes. “It’s a shortened version of my name,” He replied.

Adam laughed. Dean felt himself turning red and focused his attention back to his own plate. _Who does this guy even think he is, no-good junkless-_ Except that Dean knew that Castiel was not, in fact, junkless- And man, did he need another drink.

Dean managed to somehow go the rest of dinner without speaking to Castiel, letting himself be pulled into conversation with Rufus and even Adam. He was ok, Dean decided, even if he was a bit spoiled. Bobby always made sure to steer any talk away from John.

Rufus excused himself before dessert. Dean sprang up to clear the table and bring the dishes into the kitchen. Jo found him loading everything up into the big industrial dishwasher.

“Spill.”

He tensed, looking around. “There’s nothing on the floor.”

She punched his arm. “Not _that kind_ of spill. I’m talking about the kind of spill where you tell me why you’re so uptight today.”

“I’m not uptight,” He spat out through gritted teeth.

She merely leaned back against the counter beside him, crossing her arms. She looked a lot like her father, but had inherited Ellen’s _don’t you dare bullshit me, Winchester_ look.

“You like Castiel, don’t you?”

Dean’s hand slipped, letting the silverware fall on to the floor. He gaped at her, flustered. “What? No, no..no. What would- Why would you even say that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Dean,” She said softly, even though they were alone in the kitchen. “You couldn’t take your eyes off of him all night. If he so much as looked at you, you blushed.”

Dean used his feet to kick the silverware into a pile on the ground.

“You know that’s alright, right?” Jo continued slowly. “You know no one will care. We’re family.”

“Dad was family.”

Jo stiffened as the meaning behind the words hit her. Jo was not normally a touchy-feely kind of person, so it surprised him when she threw her arms around his waist.

“Cut it out, Jo, I can’t breathe,” He teased, but returned the embrace. No more was said as they gathered the silverware and finished loading the dishes.

Rejoining the group at the table, they discovered what had been in Castiel’s box: chocolate cake.

“…so, she practically forced me,” Castiel was saying while Sam and Adam laughed.

“I’ll have to send her flowers,” Bobby was in heaven, cutting the thickest slice for himself.

“I thought you didn’t like cake, Dean!” Sammy teased him as all the slices were passed down the table.

“I don’t like your face, bitch,” he replied, which earned him a whack from Ellen.

“Dean’s a _huuuuge_ jerk,” Sam turned to Adam. “Don’t pay attention to him.”

“Could you two act like adults for just five minutes?” Bobby asked, brandishing his fork. “You idjits get worse and worse every year.”

Jo raised her glass. “To immaturity!”

The group repeated the phrase. Adam pulled Jo and Castiel over to him, and the three of them were soon deep in conversation. Sam got up to refill his and Dean’s glasses, clinking the rim of his own against Dean’s when he sat back down.

“To being a purebred Winchester,” He said under his breath, glancing over at Adam.

Dean coughed on his whiskey, smiling. “I can always count on you, Sammy.”

His little brother was quiet for a while, swirling his glass. “Hey, so how often have you hung out with Jo and her friends?”

Dean blinked. “Umm, a few.”

“Just a few?” Sam pressed, leaning in.

“Well, yeah,” Dean took another sip, thinking. “Like twice, not counting the other night.”

Sam nodded, his brow furrowing.

“Ya’know, little brother, you’re the one who never wants to-”

“I know, I know,” Sam cut him off bitterly. “I was just wondering, because-”

He was interrupted by a guitar riff.

 

_It was the heat of the moment…_

_Telling me what your heart meant…_

_The heat of the moment shone in your eyes…_

The brothers blinked and looked around as the section of music played again.

“The hell?” Dean asked, and Sam pulled the lapel of Castiel’s jacket, draped over the chair beside him.

“It’s his phone,” Sam said, pulling it out. Sure enough, there was an incoming call. “Castiel!” Sam called, holding it up.

Castiel strode over and took the phone from Sam, frowning at the screen before excusing himself to the kitchen. Dean could hear his raspy voice, but couldn’t make out any words. He watched the man’s back for a few moments: Castiel ran his hands through his hair and shook his head before beginning to pace along the kitchen window. Adam and Jo wandered back to the table before he was done with his phone call.

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said gruffly, dropping into his seat.

“Hang on, I think you dropped this.” Sam bent over to pick up a small piece of paper from the floor. “Or, I guess I dropped it, when I got your phone?”

Castiel, busy on his phone, looked up in confusion.

“‘ _Call me please, I’d love to get to know you,_ ’” Sam read aloud. “Hannah Caroline.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat and he glared at Castiel, heart hammering. To his credit, the man looked up in horror, catching Dean’s eye, before ripping the paper out of Sam’s hand.

“That’s nothing,” He said hastily, stashing the paper back in the pocket of his coat. “Someone I just met. Just this morning.” He looked mortified, raising his eyes again to Dean’s.

“Oh, the person you told me about earlier?” Sam asked. “It can’t have gone that bad, then, if she gave you her number. Right?”

Dean didn’t need to hear anymore. He stood up abruptly, pulling on his jacket. “Gotta call Charlie, just remembered.” He grunted, and was out the door before anyone could stop him.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to our beautiful, wonderful sam :)

Sam nearly went after Dean, when he stomped out. He was almost sure Bobby was going to; but the look in the old man’s eyes was hard to read. Not long afterward, Adam pleaded jet lag and retreated to the safety of the bedroom across the street. Clean up went quickly, as the bar had essentially been closed before the group had started dinner, and Ellen and Bobby excused themselves to follow Adam. Not one word was said about Dean.

Sam lingered in the empty bar with Castiel and Jo, not quite ready to leave. The other two talked quietly and Sam let them, pulled in to his own thoughts. The sun was going down fast, and he ached to think of Jess and her family on the harbor. Their argument this morning was still on the front of his thoughts. There must have been a reason she had come to his apartment, other than to invite him to dinner. Or to drop hints about engagement. It had been two years that they’d been together…of course the idea had presented itself to Sam. She made him happy.

_But you aren’t yourself when you’re with her._ Sam’s inner monologue always sounded annoyingly like Dean.

_‘Not myself…’ What does that even mean? That I’m not high-class enough to fit in with the group?_

_No._ Sam could feel himself grinding his teeth. It was a habit he was always trying to break. _That you’re a fighter. You’re a Winchester._

_It’s a name, not a diagnosis._

Sam could almost imagine the look Dean would have given him at that. _You can call it whatever you want, Sammy, but you’ve got something different in your blood._ It killed Sam, it really did. He had all the right clothes and words and he still never fit in. He had been tight-lipped with Jess about his upbringing. That wasn’t something you could just casually mention to someone over dessert. She knew that John was in jail, but not what for. It had never even occurred to him what she might have thought his crime had been.

He could still remember the look of shock on her face when he had stood up and walked out of a lecture after just one phone call, nearly two years ago now.

She had found him in his dorm room, packing a duffel bag. He was pulling clothes out of his drawers that she’d never seen: ripped jeans and faded T shirts and weathered flannel.

“What’s in Cicero?” He startled when she entered and looked up, eyes wild.

“My brother.” Sam’s mind was lightyears away. He was suddenly a child again, dabbing wet rags on split lips and black eyes.  He itched absent mindedly at scars: the old burn on his right wrist, almost like he had been branded with hot iron. The jagged line in the center of his back, too imprecise and thick to have been a surgery. The small puckered circle in his left shoulder just big enough to have been a small bullet at close range. He hadn’t been back in classes for a week.

‘Family Emergency.’ He knew that Jess was beginning to cringe when he said the words. He couldn’t exactly blame her. What sane person wouldn’t raise an eyebrow, when their boyfriend left without a word to Indiana to bail their older brother out of jail, only to bring said brother back with broken ribs and seriously bad withdrawals? It was the first fight Sam and Jess had ever had; she had taken one look at Dean on Bobby’s couch and demanded that he be taken to the hospital. When Sam and Bobby refused, she was horrified. She didn’t speak to Sam for two days.

  It was around then that Sam was conscious of the actions that separated him from his classmates. They had been there all along, but it was as natural to him as breathing. How he ate fast, as if someone would tell him any second that he needed to leave. How he always insisted sitting with his back to a wall, eyes to the entrance. How he saved contacts under first name only, as if to protect identities if his phone was ever compromised.

_(_ _“Why don’t you give me a heart in your phone?” Jess had asked him, sweetly, under the covers one night. “There’s a heart by your name, in my phone.”_

_Still flushed from sex and drunk on her perfume, he answered without thinking. “If someone was trying to hurt me and took my phone, I wouldn’t want any traces back to you. I love you, I want to keep you safe.” It was the first time Sam had told her he loved her, but that wasn’t the reason she had so audibly gasped for breath.)_

He was always itching for a fight. His fingers curled when he heard someone yell, and his anger burned ice cold in his chest. The set of his jaw alone had been enough to send several of his acquaintances stumbling backwards, and the fear in their eyes came as an enormous satisfaction.

Jo’s phone rang then, and she laughed as she answered it. She listened for a bit, before laughing again. “What, Geri isn’t going to be blessed by your presence tonight?” The voice on the other end practically growled. “I work tomorrow….alright, alright…Only a few drinks. Alibi?... See you there.” She slipped her phone back in her pocket and stood up, stretching out her arms before pushing in her barstool. “That was Ruby,” She told them. “She got cut tonight, wants me to join her for some drinks. You guys want to come with?”

“The nurse at the party on Saturday?” Castiel asked, and Jo nodded.

When Castiel hesitated, she added “She knows I work tomorrow, so I told her I’d only be out for a little bit. It’ll be fun, and the bar is right next to the hospital. In our district,” She nudged him. “We’ve run there a couple times. But it’s where all of our fire guys and the ER guys hang out.”

Castiel nodded slowly, before giving Jo a warm smile. “That would be wonderful, thank you. Do I have a moment to run upstairs first?”

“Yes, you do. I’m gonna go up too, I want to change if we’re going out. Sam?” Jo turned to him. “You’re coming?”

“I’m invited?”

“I’m inviting you,” Jo rolled her eyes at him. “Now that you’re finally…willing to hang out with us, I’m gonna jump at the chance. Come help me decide what to wear.”

Sam squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable. Jo was not at all a fan of Jess, and the feeling was mutual. She had maintained all along the Jess was bad for Sam. It was a real mark of Jo and Sam’s relationship that she had kept quiet about it for so long, and had bit back her “I told you so!” when Sam had told her about the breakup.

As they climbed the stairs, Castiel assured Sam that he would bring his phone up to Jo’s when he had ‘done what he needed to do’ before leaving. The wording was definitely weird, but Sam let it slide, thanking him. He sat on the edge of Jo’s bed as she changed in her big, walk in closet.

“Who’s Jerry?” He asked after a while, voice raised so that Jo could hear him.

“Jerry?” She asked, peeking out from around the door.

“Jerry?” Sam asked again, losing confidence. _This is stupid. ___

“I have absolutely no idea who you’re talking about.” Jo disappeared behind her closet door again, and Sam could hear her pushing aside hangers.

“Never mind,” He muttered hastily.

“Spit it out,” Jo called out, moving from the closet to the bathroom counter. She had decided on a navy blue dress that flowed down her thin frame and showed off a generous portion of her back.

“Are we going out for drinks, or dancing?” Sam asked suspiciously. “You said drinks.”

“No, I said the Alibi. It’s a fancy place.” She looked at him through the mirror, gliding on lipstick.

“I’m not dressed for a fancy place,” Sam argued, arms crossed.

“Sure you are!” Jo capped her lipstick and whirled around. “Nice shoes, nice jeans, nice sweater. Dude, you came in wearing a sports jacket. Dressed for a fancy Harvard party!” She narrowed her eyes shrewdly at this. “Were you trying to ditch us, or something?”

Sam squirmed again. It was true that he had gotten more than a little dressed up, in case he changed his mind and decided to head out to the Moore’s yacht on the harbor after all.

Jo frowned, but let the matter drop. She spent a moment deciding on shoes before joining Sam on the edge of the bed, lacing up the tall straps of her sandals. “Who were you asking about earlier and how am I supposed to know them?”

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Jerry? When you were on the phone, with Ruby, you asked her if she would be with ‘Jerry’ tonight, or something. I guess, I don’t know, I was just wondering who Jerry was?”

Jo looked at him for a moment, confused, before it hit her. “Oh!” She exclaimed, pushing Sam teasingly. “Geri, G-E-R-I.” She clarified. “Short for geriatrics.” When Sam still looked puzzled, she giggled. “Geriatrics. Umm, healthcare of old people? Opposite of pediatrics? Her shift in the ER tonight was cut, but they pretty much always offer to let her spend a few hours working in the geriatric unit of the hospital. Which she hates. She said no.” Sam was relieved, and must have looked like it, because Jo pushed him again. “Don’t worry, you’re still in for the count.”

He grimaced at her. “You seem more anxious to set us up than anyone else.”

She looked Sam square in the eye, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to have this talk with me, Sam? Because I was under the impression that you and I were not allowed to talk about your relationships. You said so yourself.”

He shrugged. “You ended up being right.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that.” She pointed out. “Besides, it’s not like you take my advice anyways. Even though you should.” There was a knock on the door and she rose to answer it.

“Just tell me why,” He pleaded, grabbing her arm.

“I just think Ruby would be good for you.”

This took Sam aback. When he had first brought Jess around, she had been begging Sam to get a ‘nice girl’ instead. _“Jess isn’t a nice girl. You say that you’re damaged, she would never understand. You aren’t safe, you’re hiding from yourself, Jess is too big of a risk…”_

“You’re a soldier, Sam, and Jess will never understand that. Have you even told her about your dad?”

Sam bit his lip. “She knows he’s in prison.”

“Does she know what for?” Jo pressed. The knock on the door came again, but she ignored it. “Does she know how you grew up? How you were raised? The fights, the break-ins, the-”

Sam shook his head sharply. “She can’t know that,” He said, somewhat desperately. “She can’t know that about me.”

“Just come in, Castiel!” Jo hollered, and fixed Sam with a look.

“I know,” He said weakly. “And Ruby would what, fix me? Put me back together?”

They heard Castiel pull back a chair in the kitchen, choosing to wait outside rather than disturb them.

“No,” Jo said simply. “You’re both two sides of the same coin. She’s everything you hate about yourself.”

This information made Sam’s skin crawl. He thought about Ruby, her dark eyes and that devilish grin that sent lightning to his heart. “Why would I ever want to be with someone with all the qualities I hate about myself?”

“Because you should learn to love them.” Jo said quietly, leaving him alone on the edge of the bed.


	17. Chapter 17

The Alibi was indeed a fancy place. Sam looked around when they first entered, shocked that he had never actually been here before. Swanky cocktail bars were the staple of his law school meetups. Upon closer inspection, he found the problem. It had been renovated from what was left of the old jail on Charles Street. The floor was straight concrete and there were still bars on the windows. The lounge was decorated with mugshots, and the bar itself was set behind actual cell doors. It was lit with industrial style pendant lights, and the music playing was some sort of indie-alternative song that Sam had never heard. Too different, too outside the comfort zone of the Fortune 500. It was also difficult to find, nestled practically in the parking lot of the big Mass Gen Medical complex.

They saw Ruby before she saw them. Leaning against the bar, wrapped up in a martini glass and the bartender, her pose was almost feral. She wore a simple black dress, skintight with sleeves that bared her forearms. Sam shuddered as he remembered what Jo had said about her. She turned to the side as she took a sip from her drink, and her face visibly brightened when she saw the group. Striding over, she either didn’t see or ignored the bartender as he said a few last words, nearly reaching out to her. The man met Sam’s eyes with a stony expression.

They crowded together at one of the small tables, and Sam was in heaven with her thigh pressed against his own. Jo and Castiel sat together, on the opposite side. Sam laughed at the cocktail list, featuring names like “Rosemary’s Baby” “Jailbait” and “Rehab.” Jo ordered the latter, and Sam went with Johnny Walker Blue, neat. Castiel decided on a Manhattan, after completely blowing off the very obvious flirting of their waitress. She huffed away, swinging her hips and glancing over her shoulder. Castiel didn’t watch.

“The servers here are thirsty as hell!” Jo exclaimed. “Cas, that poor woman looked like a kicked puppy.”

Castiel looked up and chuckled. “I would be more concerned for Ruby. The bartender hasn’t taken his eyes off her, even to poor drinks.”

Sam felt the corner of his mouth twitch, grim. The guy was still staring at their table.

“Al’s been after me for months,” Ruby remarked coolly. “It’s not happening.” Her voice was strong and scathing but she kept her eyes down on the menu, despite already having a drink. She wrung her hands under the table. Sam recognized the pose, and wondered if she was afraid to look up at this guy. Sam debated saying something to her about it.

Their waitress was at the bar now, talking with Al. Something he said made her nod vigorously, looking back at their table just to bury her head in her hands when she saw the four of them watching her. He grinned widely and picked up the tray of drinks that the waitress had set down- _their table’s drinks._ Ruby tensed, her breath becoming shallow. Jo and Castiel didn’t notice, as they had turned around in their seats to watch the scene at the bar. Sam hesitated, not wanting to overstep Ruby’s boundaries. He changed his mind when he saw the way Al was looking at Ruby: hungry and desperate with a smile that looked more like a warning than anything else. He looked sadistic.

Sam put his arm around Ruby’s shoulders and pulled her in closer to him. She eased into the embrace slowly. He could feel her shaking and he looked down at her, rubbing her arm. She looked up with the slightest smile, before pushing her now-empty martini glass to the edge of the table.

Al wasn’t smiling by the time he had walked across the bar. At least his attention was focused on Sam now.

“Jane says she’s _so sorry,_ ” Al mimed the air quotes after slamming the four drinks down on the table. “But she can’t cover your table anymore.” He glanced quickly at Castiel. “So it’s going to be me. Anything I can help you with?”

“No, we’re good,” Sam jeered. Pride swelled in his chest as Al took a step back, involuntarily. Sam almost wished he was standing; he had a good few inches over the head of this guy. Jo was frozen, shoulders rigid, and Sam felt bad. Al was right behind her, and she would surely be in the way if things turned ugly.

Al stepped forward, jutting his chin. Jo actually scooted her chair towards Castiel, who had half-risen from his chair with his icy eyes narrowed. He gripped the back of Jo’s chair and inched it closer to his own, removing her from Al’s path. This wasn’t lost on the man, who pressed right up against the table and looked down to Ruby.

“Need anything, sweetheart?” He asked. Castiel actually grabbed Jo by the shoulders and twisted her around behind him, looking to meet Sam’s eyes before giving the slightest nod. _If this is going to be a fight, I’m ready._

Sam could practically feel Ruby fold in on herself, against him. She had almost stopped breathing and she gripped Sam’s knee, hard. Despite this, she remained straight and glared at Al. Sam marveled at the amount of composure she had. He could feel the anger rolling off of her in waves. She acted like a cornered animal, scared to her very core but still willing to fight tooth and nail. It was early enough that the Alibi was still quiet, with very few people. Unfortunately, this meant almost no privacy, and nearly half of the patrons were watching the exchange. Three people even had cellphones out.

“You can talk to me, sweetheart. Is this guy bothering you?” Al reached out and gripped Ruby’s chin, tilting her face upwards.

He might as well have set off an explosion. Sam stood up, using one arm to push the table into Al’s chest. He kept the other hand firmly placed on Ruby’s shoulder, keeping her steady as she attempted to stand and speak. In the same split second, Castiel wrenched Al’s arm away and twisted it behind his back, bending the man’s spine over backwards in what most have been an incredibly painful position. Al swung his free arm wildly, but Castiel had the man locked in such a way that he himself was unreachable.

“Get- Out- Of- Here.” Castiel growled in Al’s ear. Jane screamed at the bar, and in the very next moment it was all over. Castiel released Al, who shot one last murderous snarl at Sam before straightening his shirt and turning on his heel, heading not back to the bar but the Employees Only room off to the side. He slammed the door behind him.

“We’re leaving,” Jo announced breathlessly, carefully stepping over the broken glass that Sam had caused to fall of the table. Castiel offered her a hand when she crunched an ice cube under her heel, and Sam turned to Ruby.

_If Al doing what he did could upset her that much, she must absolutely hate what I just did._ He realized with a sinking stomach. He pulled his hand away, quickly, but she looked grateful. He dared to put his arm back around her, and she leaned against his shoulder. Jo grabbed his other arm, and Castiel’s, and led them through the door.

Jo suggested that they move to the coffee shop by Sam’s apartment, and the other three quickly agreed. It would have been quicker to walk but they chose instead to take the T, sinking into the plastic seats. Once the doors had slid shut and the train shuddered into motion, Jo burst out laughing. Ruby joined her, giggling madly, leaning forward and clutching her stomach. The small family on their train looked alarmed and inched away, which only made the two girls laugh harder. Sam couldn’t help but relax and allow himself to laugh as well, especially as Castiel rubbed and flexed his own shoulder.

“I’m too old to get in to bar fights,” He grumbled. Jo nearly fell out of her seat, gasping. “You’re laughing at me now,” Castiel warned, pointing a finger at Jo. “But tomorrow when we’ve got a heavy patient, that’s all you.”

“Not in this part of town,” Ruby said. “Mostly just old people.”

Castiel grimaced. “Fine, then Jo has compressions.”

“What, you think that’s a punishment? Check out these guns!” Jo flexed, reducing Ruby to a fit of giggles again.

Ruby leaned back against Sam, and he breathed her in. The whole journey to the coffee shop, she allowed Sam’s arm to remain around her. Jo smiled at him, and he pretended not to notice.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if any of you ever have the chance to go to boston, take it! it's a beautiful place! all of the restaurants/bars/coffee shops (except the Roadhouse) in this story are actually real places in boston. 
> 
> the coffee shop their at here is called the thinking cup. try the hazelnut latte!

“Whoa,” Said Ruby, blinking as they entered the place. “There are chandeliers.”

“This place is _nationally_ recognized,” Sam reminded her. “They’re geniuses with coffee. And their coffee is locally purchased and responsibly-”

“Whatever, just as long as they’ve got caramel sauce,” Ruby interrupted him to push her way up to the counter.

They must have looked odd, so formally dressed. Normally standing out would have made Sam feel uncomfortable, but around Ruby he just couldn’t bring himself to care. She radiated some sort of reckless energy; she seemed to be constantly on the offensive. The moment at the bar was slipping away fast, and Sam was beginning to doubt whether he had mistaken anger for fear.

She wasn’t as animated as Jo was, nor did she feel the need to fill every moment with words like Jess or Brady. He watched her as much as she dared, and it frustrated him to no end that he didn’t really learn anything new.

“So, Castiel,” Jo began casually, stirring her second hot chocolate (they had been there for quite a while now). “Why Boston? What’s wrong with Texas?”

Sam half expected him to freeze up, like the other night, but instead he just sighed. “Breakup.” As the rest of the group leaned in expectantly, he balked.

“That bad, huh?” Ruby asked, a sour expression on her face.

“Well…” Castiel laced his fingers together and took his time answering. “Very…very public. Someone else from my past caught up with me. It was just…ugly, that’s all. Figured it was time to move on.”

Castiel looked expectantly at Ruby, who shook her head. “Oh no,” She said. “Not gonna happen, Baby Blue.”

Castiel scoffed. “I told _you_ my tragic backstory.”

“Who says I have a tragic backstory?” Ruby snapped, just a little too coldly.

There was a minor showdown.

“It never felt like home. When I got an out, I took it,” She countered boldly, looking up like she _dared_ someone to dig further. Castiel nodded, as if this answer was good enough.

Jo quickly commandeered the conversation, and Sam joined in only half-heartedly. He looked to Ruby only as often as he was brave enough to. He wondered just how often she relied on half-truths.

Ruby threw him off just as much as she pulled him in. She had admittedly seemed to gravitate towards him from their first meeting, despite all odds. She had almost always ended up sitting next to him when they were together…The only time she hadn’t had been the first night, at the Roadhouse. When Sam had arrived late, and been forced to choose a seat with his back to the door.

_Two sides of the same coin._

The way she spoke, and carried herself…Jo was absolutely right. Ruby was a hunter, deadly at the game. Sam swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

At least Jo made it easy to be around. Sam had to resist the sudden urge to stand up and pull her into a crushing hug. She was so strong, much stronger than him or Dean. She didn’t need to lie to herself or drink to avoid her past. She stood her ground and tackled it head on. Jo and Ellen, there was nothing they couldn’t weather.

When Castiel was yawning more than he was actually talking, Jo insisted that they put an end to this night. Her and Castiel had to be at work by eight in the morning, and who knew whether they might be able to manage a nap during the day. Sam and Ruby walked them through the chilly streets to the T station, seeing them off on the orange line to the Roadhouse.

“Will you be taking the bus back home, then?” Sam asked as he and Ruby climbed the stairs above ground.

Ruby gave him that mysterious sidelong smile. “Who knows?” She teased. “I slept today, so that I could be up all night. And now I’m not going to work…”

Sam pointed over her head. “That’s my building. Since you’re up, and all that?”

“Lead the way, pre-law.”

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut warning!
> 
> plus trigger warning, towards the end of the chapter. ruby is a victim of domestic abuse, and sam (accidentally) minorly triggers her at the end of the chapter. we'll get ruby's full story later.

Ruby looked so out of place, sitting at Sam’s kitchen table flipping through textbooks. She frowned and looked at Sam when she reached the bookmark- Medical Lawsuits.

“Gonna be a malpractice lawyer?” She asked.

Sam moved around to sit beside her at the table, pulling the book in between them so he could read over her shoulder. “Well, I’ve got my eye on this firm,” He explained. “And they handle mostly white-collar stuff- tax evasion, mostly, but medical cases also I guess.”

Ruby snorted. “You _do not_ want to be a malpractice lawyer.”

“Why?” He asked. “It’s always a challenge, everyone says. I did a case study, on a malpractice suit last year, and I aced it.”

“For one thing, I’m sure you didn’t work so long and hard to get a degree only to be called in the middle of the night by someone screaming in the ER,” Ruby laughed bitterly. “But mostly, because you can’t win. The amount of cases you’ll get, versus how many even actually go to court…” She shook her head. “Stick to bankruptcy.”

“I don’t want to do something easy, I want a challenge,” He argued with her.

“I can guarantee you, it’s mostly going to be civil commitments,” She returned to the textbook, bored. “And you will never, _ever_ win.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself, for someone who’s never been to law school.”

This really made Ruby laugh. “Law school? I see this every day,” She gestured to the pages. “You know how many ‘lawsuits,’” She mimed the words in air quotes. “Are brought before hospitals? Money hungry lawyers _love_ to throw themselves on hospital cases. The ones who advertise on the sides of bus stops?”

Sam chewed the inside of his cheek. “The hospital wouldn’t make it public when they get sued. How do you know?”

“Oh yes, they do. If your name’s on that case, they send you a letter. And besides that, _I personally_ have had two lawsuits brought against me.”

Sam faltered, gaping at her. “Twice? How?”

“That’s nothing. Another nurse I used to work with, he had been sued six times. He won every time, of course,” Sam was incredulous, but Ruby may well have been talking about grass growing.

“What about?” Sam asked.

Ruby cocked her head and drummed her fingers on the table. “Civil commitment was the first one. And the second wasn’t technically just me. Every employee whose name was on the medical record was involved,” Sam was looking at her intently. “It was about a code. Apparently, one of the family members thought there was more that we could have done. So, they tried to sue.”

“Code?”

She smirked at him. “Weren’t you just ragging on me for not knowing as much as you?”

Sam turned red. “I’m in law school, not medical school.”

She rolled her eyes. “’Code’ is what it’s called. Cardiac arrest, respiratory arrest.”

“So…dead?”

Ruby shook her head. “Not dead. Well,” She added, like an afterthought. “Dead to you, I guess. But not necessarily.”

Sam sat quietly. “Was there?” He finally asked.

“Was there what?”

“More you could have done.”

Ruby looked into his eyes now, for a moment that felt like hours. Her face was a blank slate, absolutely no emotion. The sarcasm and spark was gone. Sam felt himself withering, heart pounding somewhere inside his throat. She responded in a voice just as flat as her eyes.

“No.” Ruby didn’t break her gaze.

Sam looked down first. “Sorry.”

Like a light switch, the moment was gone. Her eyes lit up again and the hint of a smile was back on her lips. “So this is your place, huh?” She propped one elbow on the table and looked around. “How long?”

Sam looked around as well. It was small, but the apartment he shared with Brady was a great price. He had allowed himself to spread out, claiming the space, like he had never had the luxury to do before. There were a few movie posters on the walls, courtesy of Brady. Pennants and foam fingers and flags with the school colors were draped across multiple surfaces. There was an expensive coffee maker in the kitchen, with mugs that weren’t stolen from motels. The most personal thing in the shared space, however, were the magnets on the fridge. Sam had been collecting them since he was little. Every new and interesting place, he just _had_ to have a magnet. Most of them had been stolen, by Dean or by himself. It used to make him feel guilty, but now it just made him smile. He had a big United States map in his room, with thumbtacks poked through. Brady said it made him look like a conspiracy nut.

“I lived on campus my first year of college, and then here ever since. Four years.”With horror, Sam heard someone with a set of keys outside the door. He prayed silently that Brady was alone.

He was.

“Sam, where’ve you been? Jess was-” Brady stopped when he saw Ruby, who merely raised her eyebrows.

“Uhh, Brady,” Sam stood up and rounded on Brady with his best _don’t-you-fucking-dare_ bitchface. “This is Ruby. Ruby, my roommate Brady.”

“Bathroom, Sam?” Ruby asked, looking between the two men.

Sam nodded and pointed to his room on the other side of the kitchen. She took no time in excusing herself, leaving Sam alone with Brady’s smug look.

“Busy weekend, champ?”

“Brady, knock it off,” Sam muttered.

“She makes two in what, three days?” Brady chuckled.

“It’s not like that-”

“Sure it isn’t!” Brady winked, giving Sam a fake punch in the shoulder. “Nurses, huh? Got a roleplay thing?”

Sam skipped a beat. “You know Ruby?”

Brady shrugged. “I’ve seen her before, rounds at one of the hospitals. No wonder you didn’t want to hook me up with her the other night, at that bar of yours!”

“It’s not like that,” Sam lamented.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell Jess,” Brady assured him with a wink. When Sam said nothing, his roommate faltered. “You’ll get back together, man. Don’t worry. I’ll talk to her.”

“Brady, I- I don’t know,” Sam admitted, quietly. He could hear Ruby moving around in his room. Brady looked stunned.

Sam gathered his things from the kitchen hastily, shutting the door of his room behind him. Ruby was standing in front of the big bookshelf on the far side of the room, hands on her hips.

_And oh god, her hips…_

“Pretty buff for a nerd,” She remarked, running a hand along the shelf. Some of the more well-worn spines snagged on her fingertips.

Sam sat on his bed with a sigh, pulling off his jacket and tossing it on his dresser.

“Something I’m missing here, Grumpy?” Ruby asked casually, turning around to face him. She leaned carefully against the bookshelf, hands behind her back.

“No,” He replied, too quickly.

“Am I coming in at a bad time?” She pressed him.

Anything Sam was going to say next was lost in the playful curve of her lips. She knew exactly what she was asking; she just wanted to see if Sam would admit it.

“Because if I am,” Ruby stepped forward from the bookshelf. “All you have to do is say so.” Sam didn’t even consider it. She was closer now, pressed up against the bed between Sam’s legs. If Sam wanted to get away from her, he would actually have to bend over backwards, laying down. “You can stop me any time now,” She whispered. He could taste her breath, she was close.

Sam didn’t stop her.

He wasn’t quite sure who it was that closed the gap between them. Was Ruby the one that leaned in, or did he reach out to pull her? All he knew was that when their lips met, he had no recollection of any girl that had come before her.

They crashed together. Sam’s world collapsed in on itself, leaving only Ruby. He tangled his fingers into her long, thick hair, and she bit his lower lip every time he pulled on it. Something large and predatory was reawakened up in Sam’s chest, roaring and digging in its claws. He could feel her heart beating up against his skin as sure as he could feel his own. With her tongue flicking against his, pushing, he could taste the caramel from her coffee.

Chest heaving, he hoisted her up onto his lap. Her fingers slipped up under his sweater, gripping tight at his ribs to keep them closer. Sam’s skin was hot and flushed and Ruby’s hands were dead cold. He growled at the back of his throat and twisted, trying to even out the sensation. She withdrew her hands, ghosting them down his sides before tentatively pulling at his waistband. He gasped, nodding, burying his face into her hair. She smelled smoky sweet, like spent gunpowder. With her hands in his jeans, he let his own wander down her body.

Ruby’s skin was so soft and her body felt so good. Sam could feel the muscles in her legs tense, shaking, but she didn’t seem keen to rearrange her position on top of him. With each deep breath in he could feel her ribs expand, sharp enough to cut him. He crept up under the short skirt of her dress, gripping around the cup of her ass and rubbed his thumbs against her hipbones, pulling up the thin straps of her thong. She paused, tipping her head back, and Sam used the moment to pull her dress over her head. He was vaguely aware of the tattoos he had noticed yesterday, but before he could dwell on it she was tugging his sweater off. He panicked briefly, wondering what she would make of his own tattoos. If she had an opinion at all, she didn’t voice it. She was working on the button of his jeans, and he stood to help her.

Now in only her underwear, Ruby looked so small. Sam kissed her forehead, lifting her up tenderly and placing her on the bed. She looked so foreign but so natural at the same time, laying under him with her hair fanned out on his pillows. He knelt between her legs, pressing sloppy kisses up her thighs. She writhed at his touch, fingers threaded through his long hair. He paused, just a moment, below her navel. When her breath caught in her throat he laughed, deep and sultry, sucking at the skin before traveling upwards. Ruby raised herself up on her elbows to glare at him, murderous, for the tease. Sam took the opportunity to snake his arms around her, pressing his lips against hers once more as he worked on the hooks of her bra. Ruby kissed him hungrily, and he returned the kisses with just as much longing and conviction. The creature inside his chest purred and preened under her touch. With her bra now joining her dress on the floor, Sam took the time to really look at her. The flowers on her hip and thigh climbed nearly to the bottom of her breast. So beautiful, so feminine, so powerful. Ruby was a queen, and she had fought hard to get herself where she was. She felt ancient, timeless.

Sam found a weakness, however, a reminder that she was in fact human. He had been sliding his hand up her stomach, cupping her breast, before continuing up to grip her hair again. Lips still together, their kisses were unbroken until his fingers reached her neck.

The grip of Ruby’s hands on his hips became a push, and she set her shoulders defensively. The posture from the bar returned. Sam sat up, concerned. She scrambled up to a sitting position, shivering, dragging herself over to a corner of the bed.

The monster in Sam’s chest roared, outraged. He could feel heat creeping up his back and neck as he recognized himself in Ruby; a child, scared and shaking, hiding in the bathroom to nurse injuries. Her eyes were like a mirror. She was hunched, trying to hide the ghosts of bruises that had long since healed.

“Ruby…” He whispered. She slid back over, and he wrapped her up tightly in his arms. She wasn’t shivering anymore, but she also did not pull away from his embrace.

“I should go,” She suggested, voice quiet and unsure.

Sam shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t.”


	20. Chapter 20

Sam didn’t make it to his 8:45 class that next day. He stumbled in to his 10:30 American History class almost fifteen minutes late, clutching a strong coffee and rubbing self-consciously at the dark circles under his eyes.

Ruby had left in the early hours in the morning, though Sam hadn’t wanted her to. He had insisted on accompanying her all the way to the door of her apartment, with panic welling in his chest when he imagined her taking the T alone so late at night. Ruby had teased him, gently reminding that she did it all the time. But Sam insisted and she gave in.

He had had a few hours of sleep, decidedly ignoring his first alarm. Brady had shot him a withering glare in the kitchen when Sam made his way in, late for school and still unshowered.

“Cutting class now? Aren’t we turning into a rebel,” Brady remarked dryly.

“Mass communications,” Sam retorted, avoiding his roommate’s eyes. “I’m not even going in to journalism. I think I can afford to miss one class.”

“You haven’t missed a class in what, two years?” When Sam only grunted, Brady laughed. “You had the freakin’ _flu_ last January and you still dragged your ass into school. This Ruby is having quite an effect on you.”

“Do we have any caramel sauce?” Sam asked, stirring his coffee.

“You drink coffee with caramel? Since when?” Brady questioned, slightly taken aback.

“Since now.” He had found some, rummaging in the back of the cupboard. The jar was sticky and it secretly thrilled him that he could taste Ruby on his fingers when he licked them. Brady resorted to small talk then, and Sam tuned him out.

When he came through the lecture hall door late, his classmates looked visibly concerned. When he sank into the empty seat farthest possible from Jess, they looked absolutely shocked. Even the TA of the class stopped in his shuffling of papers to watch Sam arrange his things on the floor beside him.

Sam had _always_ taken the seat next to Jess; even after the “break up” he still sat next to her. He let his hair fall over his face so that he didn’t have to see her look of horror.

“Sam, right?” The only freshman in the class, Kevin Tran, was in the seat right next to him. Kid was a genius, starting college at the age of seventeen as a junior.

“Yeah…Kevin?”

The boy nodded. “Do you, umm, need the notes?”

The knot in Sam’s shoulders unwinded. He had been hunched so tight, avoiding the stares of Jess and his other classmates.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because i just love sweet, selfless Sam. 
> 
> trigger warning: the end of the chapter has implied mentions of date rape. never explicitly stated or described. i know it's a touchy subject, so i promise not to go into it. everyone is ok though!

September ended too quickly. Sam had mostly been able to avoid Jessica- _Jess. Had his nickname really faded away already?_ There was still a drawer of her things in his room and the extra toothbrush was still in the cup next to his sink. It stung, a little, to avoid her in classes and the library and around campus, but all in all it was better than Sam expected.

It was the Saturday morning just two weeks after their first kiss. Sam was just getting back from a morning run to find Ruby leaning against the railing outside of his apartment, arms crossed and eyes closed. She looked up as he climbed the stairs towards her, pulling his headphones out of his ears.

She was wearing the standard issue hospital scrubs, and they must have been at least two sizes too big on her. The pants had been cuffed three times and she was practically swimming in the jacket. Sam knew that she preferred to wear her own darker colored sets of clothes, and would almost never choose to change.  Her dark hair was knotted up high, out of her face, but stray strands fell across her forehead and the back of her neck.

“Got any plans today?” She asked when he reached her.

“No,” Sam coughed in the chilly air. Ruby smelled strongly like bleach, and it stung the back of his throat. He unlocked his door and she followed him silently.

Sam went straight to the kitchen for water, while Ruby sat down on the mat just outside the front door and unlaced her shoes. She dropped them outside the threshold before closing the door, stepping through in socked feet to put her bag down beside the table.

“You shouldn’t leave your shoes outside like that,” Sam chided. “I’ve known my neighbors for a while, but you can never be too careful.”

“You don’t want them in the house, trust me.” She said, pulling off the hospital jacket and dropping it on the floor.

“They’re just shoes.”

“ _Trust me._ ” Ruby insisted. The scrub top hit the floor too, and the pants soon followed. She balled the outfit up and tossed the pile of clothes out the door by the shoes, closing it decisively. “Got anything to drink? Water, coffee, vodka?”

“Umm, all three. How about coffee?” Sam was distracted now, grabbing Ruby’s hand to pull her arm up.

She had been wearing a tight fitting T shirt and spandex shorts under her scrubs. Standing now in just these, Sam noticed for the first time that morning that her neck and calves looked like they had been scrubbed raw. But the strangest thing was the smudged ink on her arms and hands. Several different types of handwriting and inks were scrawled across her skin, in words and numbers Sam couldn’t make any sense of.

 

 

  _0516 BP 96/70_

_91% 44HR_

_0519 18G L AC_

_0520 epi_

_0520 BP 93/68_

_91% 39HR_

_0523 epi_

_0529 I &O_

_0531 BP 88/61_

_87% 41HR_

_0547 int. 22 @ lip_

_0547 sux_

_0547 narcan_

_0547 BP 81/58_

_36HR_

_0551 vtach_

_0553 defib_

_0553 vtach_

_0555 defib_

_~~0557~~ _

_  
_

She offered no explanation, pulling paper towels off the rack by the sink and wetting them to scrub the writing away. “Got any rubbing alcohol?” She asked, scoffing at the smears of ink. “Works so much better on skin.”

Sam only nodded, reaching under the sink for the first aid kit. His throat burned again as Ruby spilled a generous amount of the solution out onto her paper towels, scrubbing her arm. She was satisfied that the ink had disappeared, and seemed to pay no attention that her skin looked angry red and dry after the attack.

“How was work?” Sam asked tentatively, handing over a cup of coffee.

Ruby hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, high enough now to be on Sam’s level. “Work was work,” She said coolly, taking a big gulp from the mug Sam had handed to her. It read **Broward County Mystery Spot** across both sides, with big loopy question marks.

“Really? That’s all you’re gonna give me?” Sam crossed his arms and leaned sideways against the counter next to Ruby’s legs.

She shrugged. “What do you want me to tell you, exactly? I got off early, which was nice.”

“What happened to your scrubs?” Sam asked, reaching out to slide his hand down around her calf. _God, her skin was so smooth._

Ruby grimaced, taking another big drink of coffee before her answer. “My favorite pair,” She sighed. “We cut them off.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, confused. “You _cut them off?_ Why?”

“Well, I can’t just hop on the T covered in blood and guts.” She responded sarcastically. When Sam frowned, she put down her coffee mug. “Sorry,” She mumbled. “We had something pretty ugly come in, got a little messy. No way I was going to keep my clothes, they were soak- anyways, Meg helped cut me loose,” She gestured to the closed front door. “And the standard issues always come too big, because the linen company makes their drop offs in the morning and you’re stuck with what’s left at the end of the night.”

Sam chewed on the inside of his lip, drawing swirls up and down her leg with his fingertips. “All the writing?”

“Vital signs, charting info, med stuff. We put it all in the computer later.” She spoke carefully, staying concentrated on her coffee. Sam wondered if it was for his benefit or her own.

When she said nothing more, he cleared his throat. “I, uhh, I’m going to jump in the shower.” Ruby raised her eyebrows. “You can stay here,” Sam added hastily, “There’s more coffee in the pot. I’ll be done quickly.”

Once safely in his room with the door shut, he wondered how Ruby would take this. Sam had just _distinctly_ uninvited her to come in with him. He had seen her now three times since that first night at the Alibi, the night he was certain they would have slept together.

They had made out pretty heavily, but nothing more. Sam laughed as he imagined if Dean had been there. _Get a room!_ He would have yelled. _Like fucking teenagers._

Dean had some sort of weird fixation with calling people teenagers.

He could hear voices in the kitchen; Brady had woken up. Things had been tense between the two roommates, ever since Sam had voiced his disbelief at fixing things with Jess. Brady was the one who set them up, after all. But true to his word, he hadn’t breathed a word about Bela or Ruby to Jess. Sam got the water running in his shower, to drown out any conversation and to make it clear that he was not going to join in. The pipes took forever to heat up, but he stood under the freezing water anyways.

Sam was out of soap. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had only intended to stop by the apartment to grab his wallet and hit the store, but Ruby’s surprise visit had been distracting. He could hear Brady calling out to him, but what he was saying exactly was unintelligible through the closed doors and the water crashing on the tiles.

“Can’t hear you, I’m in the shower!” He yelled, pulling open the shower curtain to lean out and glare at the cabinet under the sink. _Maybe I’ve got something left over, some mini bottle from a hotel…_ Brady fell silent outside momentarily, before trying to speak to him again, clearly right outside the bedroom door. “In a minute!” Sam hollered, annoyed now. There were a few thumps against Sam’s bedroom door. “Hold on, Brady, I’ll be out in just a minute!”

Silence. Sam leaned back against the cold tile wall, rolling his eyes. _Couldn’t they tell that I want a moment to myself? So much like Jess, never letting him even pause to think without interrupting._ He immediately felt guilty for the thought.

Sam nearly had a heart attack with the loud _CRASH_ of his bedroom door swinging open. He had just enough time to wrench the shower curtain fully closed before the door to his bathroom was pushed through as well, leaching the heat and steam out of the air.

He was angry now. “Seriously, I-”

“Heard you the first three times, thanks.”

Sam peeked around his shower curtain, wishing it was a little less see-through. Ruby was standing just a foot from him, smirking as she held his phone up. Brady was standing behind her with his arms crossed.

“Yeah, yeah, I got him, hold on,” Ruby covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “It’s your brother. Well, it’s about your brother.”

Eyebrows knit together, Sam shut off the water. He didn’t care that he was stark naked and dripping wet, not anymore. Not with Dean calling him at five in the morning. _This can’t be good…_ Ruby handed him a towel, which he tied around his waist before wiping his hands hastily. He took his phone and sat on the edge of the tub, pushing his dripping hair back from his face.

“Dean?”

“Uhh, well, Charlie. Hi, Sam! Sorry, umm, I know it’s early, and Dean really really didn’t want to bother you, but I just don’t know who else I could call?”

Ruby backed away, but Brady was quick to take her place. Arms still crossed, he glared at Sam.

“No, Charlie, it’s ok. What’s going on?”

“Umm, it’s Dean. Ha ha ha, he uhh…” Sam could hear someone- Dean probably- groaning on the other end of the phone. Charlie hissed at him, before returning to the phone. “He kinda, umm, he’s not feeling too good, and I don’t know what to do, I was going to just take him back to my place, but, umm, he doesn’t…” If Charlie sounded anxious at the beginning of the phone call, she was now bordering on downright hysterical.

“Charlie, it’s-” Sam paused, looking around wildly. The clock on the wall of his bedroom glowed red in the near darkness. “5:13 in the morning.”

“Oh, that late? Umm, early. That early? Ha ha ha,” Charlie laughed. There was more talking on her end, and Sam could tell that she was holding the phone away from her, maybe even covering the speakers. Sam could make out about every third word or so that she was saying, like “Won’t” and “Paradise” and “he” and “trying.” Dean’s reply was lost, but it was definitely Dean speaking.

Sam sighed, rubbing the crick that was already starting in the side of his neck. He had about a dozen questions, but he figured that Charlie wouldn’t answer any of them over the phone.

“Still there, Sam? Don’t hang up, please?”

“No, Charlie, I won’t. I’m here.”

“Will you come help us?”

Sam glanced up before answering. He was still very aware that Brady was burning holes into Sam with his eyes, absolutely downright hostile. Brady _hated_ Dean, and Sam’s stomach dropped when he thought of bringing his brother here under the condition he was probably in.

“Yes, Charlie, I will. Where are you?”

She sighed and laughed, audibly relieved. “By my apartment. I’ll text you the address.” It was not lost on Sam that she had said _by_ the apartment, not actually there.

Her apartment was in the neighborhood of Cambridge, just east of Harvard. It was a residential area, and so of course the buses didn’t run. The nearest T stop was over a mile out.

**Sam Winchester: Come pick me up at the stop on Central, I’ll be in soon.**

**Charlie Bradbury: Sorry. Can’t.**

**Sam: Dean’s car?**

It took Charlie a full ten minutes to respond.

**Charlie: Don’t have it. Or the keys.**

This was probably the biggest indicator of just how screwed Dean’s situation probably was. He _loved_ his Impala, his Baby. If he had allowed something bad to happen to it, Sam could only imagine what had actually happened to Dean.

Brady argued with Sam the whole time he got dressed and toweled off his hair.

It was too early, whatever happened to Dean probably just needed to be slept off. He can’t sleep _here,_ of course, because…well, he can’t. Dean is tall, and the couch isn’t big enough. Rebecca’s been around a lot lately (said with a scathing look to Ruby, who was leaning against the wall in the corner of Sam’s room). In the end, Sam just stopped replying to him. He didn’t dare to ask to borrow Brady’s Lexus.

As his roommate was in the kitchen pitching a fit, banging around dishes and slamming cupboards, Sam turned to Ruby.

“Do we need a car?” As far as Sam was aware, Ruby didn’t have a car, but he liked how she had said ‘we’ instead of ‘you.’

“Not if we can get to Dean’s,” Sam replied bitterly. With a quick text to Charlie he was able to confirm that they at least knew where the Impala was parked (even though she wouldn’t actually tell him). “Although, they don’t have the keys…”

Ruby waived her hand as if this small piece of information was not important to her. “I need shoes,” She mused, wiggling her toes. “If we’re going to be walking around in the cold.”

Ten minutes later she was wrapped up in Boston College sweat pants and Sam’s warm old jacket, sliding around in flip flops that he wore to the beach this summer. They walked side-by-side down the narrow sidewalks, weaving in and out of cats and joggers with dogs.

“So, if Dean needs medical help after this-” Ruby started slowly, pulling the jacket tighter around her shoulders.

“We are not taking him to the hospital,” Sam growled.

“Do your legs ever hurt, jumping to conclusions like that?” She asked, looking up at him. “ _If Dean needs medical help,_ we take him to Jo’s station.”

Sam stopped, stepping out on to the street to let a group of power walkers by him. “Where?”

“Jo’s station,” Ruby replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She hadn’t moved off the sidewalk, forcing the disgruntled power walkers to part around her. “Her fire station? Where she works? She’s still on shift for about two hours. You two know her crew members, right?” Sam nodded. “Well, they’re the mother ship for you then. First class medical treatment, more drugs you could ever hope to get your hands on, no questions asked.”

Sam was silent as the information sank in. Jo was always reminding the brothers that she was only a call away in times of need, but he had never imagined that this would extend past moral support. “Ruby, that’s genius.”

She grinned wickedly, head held high.

They spotted Charlie first, which wasn’t too difficult with her bright hair and sparkling sequin dress. She was crouched on the sidewalk, shaking the shoulders of-

“Dean!” Sam called, breaking in to a run. Charlie looked up when she heard him, quite literally falling backwards with her head in her hands.

“Oh thank God, Sam!” She rubbed her eyes, smearing mascara and eyeliner all across her cheeks.

Dean slumped over against the fence, mumbling something. Sam dropped to the pavement, hitting his knees hard. He reached out, gripping Dean’s upper arms roughly. “Dean, hey, answer me. You ok?”

Dean opened his eyes, blinking hard. He looked at Sam like he couldn’t focus, eyes flicking around like he couldn’t decide what he wanted to see. He was wearing nice clothes, the dress shirt/tie/slacks that he wore for work. Heart sinking, Sam unbuttoned the cuffs around Dean’s wrists and pushed the sleeves clear up to his elbows, prepared for the worst as he bared his brother’s forearms. There was nothing there, no scratches or track marks.

“Sam, that’s not what happened last night, I promise,” Charlie assured him, grabbing Dean’s wrist. “Wait, you know about that? Dean told me you didn’t.”

Sam hoisted his brother up into a better sitting position and made absolutely sure that Dean was unable to comprehend what was being said. “I’ve known for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said in a small voice.

“It started in high school, I think. He got clean, though, but…” Sam shook his head, pulling Dean’s sleeves back down as he started to shiver. “I don’t know when it started again, but probably after he left Lisa.”

“Just because he didn’t inject anything, doesn’t mean there isn’t anything in his system,” Ruby cut in, crouching down to push Sam out of the way in front of Dean. She took his chin in her hand brusquely, twisting his head side to side.

Charlie fell forwards, linking her arm into Sam’s and burying her face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just left him alone for a minute…”

Sam’s eyes were locked in horror onto Ruby and Dean. She had pulled out her cell phone, shining the camera flash into Dean’s eyes. It was only now that Sam could see Dean’s eyes clearly: they were practically all green, his pupils only a pinprick.

“Look at that,” Ruby said, pulling down Dean’s eyelid. He tried to swat at her and she blocked it, easily. “ _Very_ constricted. Could be a bunch of things. But not heroin,” She said so matter of factly.

“How do you know?” Sam asked, relieved.

Ruby only shrugged, pulling up Dean’s shirt to reveal his stomach. “He doesn’t smell like it.”

“Heroin…doesn’t smell like anything?” Charlie said slowly, puzzled.

Ruby snorted.  She had Dean’s shirt pulled up to his chest and was watching him, carefully. There were marks that looked like hands mottled across his ribs and hips, and several deep scratches disappearing below his waist band. This wasn’t what seemed to interest Ruby, because she yanked his shirt back down and looked over to Sam and Charlie. “Gonna stand him up?”

Sam slung his arm under his brother’s armpits and pulled him up, using his body weight to steady him. “Charlie, where’s the Impala?”

“We don’t have the keys,” She lamented, standing and brushing the dirt off of her dress.

“We’ll make do,” Ruby told her, holding up her backpack by the strap. “Where is it?”

Charlie looked down and kicked at a rock on the sidewalk. “Umm, Albany and Massachusetts.”

Sam exchanged a look with Ruby. “What’s on Albany and Massachusetts?”

“Let’s bring Dean inside, while you get the car. He wasn’t happy about coming to my place, but maybe now that you’re here he’ll be fine with waiting,” Charlie still hadn’t looked up, and hadn’t answered Sam’s question.

They got Dean situated on a bench in the front hallway of Charlie’s, where he mumbled something that no one could quite make out. He gripped on to Charlie’s arm, hard, shaking his head. The effort nearly caused him to fall off the bench, before Sam and Ruby moved him to lay down on the bench.

 

* * *

 

On the corner of Albany and Massachusetts was a two story brick building that Sam had never seen. “Paradise?” He read aloud, confused. “Is this a bar?”

Ruby giggled, looking up at Sam. “Really?” She asked him, shading her eyes against the rising sun.

“What?” Sam asked her. “I never make it this far across the river. This is MIT neighborhood.”

“You’ve really got no idea what this place is?” Ruby cocked her head. “Didn’t peg Dean as the type.”

“Didn’t peg Dean as what type?” Sam pressed, annoyed. The windows were dark and he couldn’t see inside. They had made it to the Impala, parked along the sidewalk.

“This is a gay bar, Sam,” Ruby giggled, letting her backpack sling down over one shoulder.

He looked up at the place again. “It doesn’t _look_ like a gay bar.”

“What do gay bars look like, exactly?” Ruby teased him, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a little air pump, wedging the mat into the crack of the Impala’s doors. Sam was still too concerned with the bar to pay attention to what she was doing. Before he knew it, the driver side door was swinging open.

“Wha- How?” He asked her, impressed. She was on the floor of the Impala, pulling at the wires beneath the steering wheel. “You know how to break in to a car?”

“You don’t?” She asked, as the engine coughed to life. “Am I driving, or are you?”

“Dean will be happy,” Sam thought aloud. “He’d probably kill us if we broke a window.”

“Did you know about Dean?” Ruby asked, settling in to shotgun.

“About what?” Sam kept his eyes fixed on the stoplight.

“I don’t know, Sam, maybe about why he was at a gay bar last night?”

“He’s not gay,” Sam said. “I didn’t think so. He’s been out with so many girls, he even lived with one for like, a year.”

“Just because he likes girls, doesn’t mean he can’t also like guys,” Ruby pointed out. “Did that not even occur to you?”

“I…I guess not,” Sam admitted. It definitely made sense, now that it was out in the open. “I just thought he’d tell me.”

“Well, we’ve got more important things to worry about,” Ruby’s voice was grim and she whipped out her phone.

“Like?”

She glared at Sam pointedly. “Like what happened to Dean last night.” Sam glanced over at her, confused. She rolled her eyes. “You really need me to say it? He was at a gay bar last night, Charlie left him alone, he looks like he’s been drugged but there’s no evidence that he smoked or injected anything…” She ticked each reason off on her fingers. Sam shook his head slightly, like he didn’t get it. “He’s still closeted, which means he’s probably desperate for affection. He has a history of having too much to drink. He looks like a freaking underwear model…You saw the bruises and scratches, didn’t you?”

It hit Sam like a brick. “You don’t think someone- he wasn’t-” Sam choked out, suddenly breathless. Ruby said nothing, staring straight ahead. Sam floored it back to Charlie’s.

Charlie was still on the floor beside Dean, holding his hand tightly.

“Jo’s station,” Ruby insisted. “She knows we’re coming.”

Sam could only nod, heart pounding in his throat. Dean was slightly more coherent, burying his head against Sam’s shoulder as he picked him up to lay him in the backseat of the car.

“Sam, this is my fault,” Charlie was in tears. “I’m so sorry, it’s my fault.”

Sam pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Charlie, answer me please. How long did you leave him alone for?”

She looked at him with shining eyes, hands over her mouth. “Only five minutes, I promise. I promise, Sam,” She threw her arms around Sam once more. “A girl, she bought me a drink, but it didn’t- I decided not to go anywhere with her. Five minutes.”

He relaxed, rubbing her back. “Good. Thank you, Charlie. Thank you for taking care of him. It should have been me.” 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for hurting dean! :( but he's ok, i promise. nothing bad has happened to our precious cinnamon roll.   
> the events in this chapter and the last were kinda inspired by the TFW bar scene in 10.09, where sam and dean are telling cas about the time when dean snuck into a club when he was young and john came in and "saved him"  
> plus, my EMT side is dying for some medically accurate emergency scenes, which is why i started this damn AU in the first place.   
> also, i wanted to further reinforce Ruby as a damaged character. she's not evil, per se, she's just hard and cold from all the things that have happened to her. she's built up a lot of walls to protect herself.

 

Ruby was right: Jo was more than prepared for them. She stood in the parking lot outside, opening up the parking gate to let Sam drive into the back lot with the employee cars. Castiel was right there, wasting no time in yanking Dean out of the backseat and carrying him single handedly, bridal style, into the station. The other two firemen were in the main room, where the floor had been cleared. Two large boxes were on the ground, opened up and organized carefully. If Sam wasn’t so nervous, he would have been impressed at how calm everyone seemed.

Castiel laid Dean down gently and remained kneeling beside him, pulling his shirt apart at the buttons. Ruby pushed her way into the circle, ripping open a small package of round stickers. She pushed them on to Dean’s chest in a carefully mapped pattern, with one of the fireman attaching wires to the ends.

“We don’t know what it was?” Jo asked Ruby, spilling the contents of another package onto the ground at Dean’s right side.

“No, but we can make assumptions,” Ruby answered darkly.

Jo tied a rubber tourniquet around Dean’s bicep, chewing on her lip as she inspected his arm. She reached over to uncap a needle, but Ruby stopped her.

“AC’s are out, there’s _years_ of scar tissue there.”

Jo cursed and twisted Dean’s arm around, rubbing the back of his forearm. Ruby nodded and Jo pushed the needle in carefully, smiling triumphantly when there was a flash of red. Castiel handed her a set of tubing and a syringe with clear liquid, in exchange for the dirty needle. He handled it carefully, standing up to walk it over to a SHARPS container bolted to the wall.

“What are our assumptions, then?” He asked Ruby as he knelt back down at Dean’s side. The other two firemen were fiddling with a machine that was hooked to the wires they had attached to Dean’s chest. It started beeping, steadily.

“What does that beeping mean?” Sam asked, leaning against a counter. His legs were shaking and he felt like he was about to be sick.

The shorter of the two glanced at it. “Good,” He assured Sam. “Normal heart rhythm.”

“Ruby?” Castiel asked again, his gravelly voice more persistent now.

“Benzo-based muscle relaxer,” She answered him, pulling the smaller of the two black boxes over to her. It was filled with vials and blister packages of pills.

Jo froze, grabbing Ruby’s wrist. The two women locked eyes for just a moment, Ruby pressing her lips together in a thin line. Castiel looked down at Dean. His expression was twisted; he looked absolutely murderous. Sam squeezed in beside Castiel, taking his brother’s hand into his own and using the other to grip tight onto his shoulder.

Ruby pulled the tiniest amount of liquid from one of the vials, mixing it into another syringe. “This is just salt water,” She explained, shaking the large syringe when she noticed Sam watching her.

“What did you put into it?”

“Narcan,” Jo answered. “Sam, stand up.”

He looked around. Jo, Castiel, and the other two firemen had backed off. Only Ruby and himself were within arm’s reach, but she was poised to turn on her heel.

He shook his head, holding Dean tighter. “No, he’s my brother.”

“Now, Sam!” Ruby barked.

Castiel dragged Sam up by his shirt collar, throwing his arm across Sam’s chest to keep him back. He still struggled against the other man as Ruby twisted her syringe into the IV tubing in Dean’s arm. With a deep breath, she pushed the medicine before quickly moving herself away from Dean.

The effect was immediate. Dean’s eyes shot open and he sat up abruptly, yelling. He didn’t seem to recognize his surroundings, swinging his arms wildly. He fell back on his elbows, breathing heavily. The machine with its wires was beeping faster now, but the fireman keeping his eye on it didn’t seem alarmed.

Jo was clearly relieved. She placed her hands on Dean’s chest, speaking to him gently. “Hey, easy. Don’t work yourself up too hard.”

“J-Jo?” Dean asked, shuddering.

“The sleeper wakes!” whispered Ruby, rocking back on her heels.

Dean turned to face her, glaring. “Go to hell,” he snarled. She only smiled at him.

“Dean,” Castiel said, kneeling back beside him and turning his attention before he could say anything else to Ruby. “What happened last night?”

Dean looked around, clearly uneasy. He locked eyes with Sam, who was still several steps back where Castiel had left him. Sam gave his brother a weak smile, reaching up with shaking hands to push his bangs out of his eyes. Dean struggled to pull himself into a sitting position until Castiel and Ruby, each on either side, put their arms around his biceps to hoist him up. He jerked his arm out of Ruby’s touch, nearly falling into Castiel.

“Dean, we know that something happened,” Jo pleaded. “Just please tell us what it is?”

Dean cleared his throat, shaking his head.

“I’ll take that cue,” Ruby announced, standing up. “Come on, guys,” She motioned to Castiel and the two other fireman, pulling them along down a hallway. “Family time.” Castiel took one last long glance over his shoulder before turning the corner.

Dean took several deep breaths, rubbing his chest. “God, my freakin’ chest is killing me.”

Jo smiled weakly and lightly fake-punched his shoulder. “Tough up, Winchester,” she said, before adding “But that’s a normal reaction, don’t worry.”

Sam sat cross legged beside Jo, beside his brother, and opened his mouth to speak. Dean groaned. “Sammy, it’s not…Not what you think,” he finished lamely.

“I don’t _think_ anything Dean, I’m just worried about you,” Sam assured him. The last thing he wanted was to alienate his brother. “You would never, _ever_ throw away everything you’ve done just for a party. Not of your own choice.”

Dean looked from Sam to Jo and back again, clearly confused. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“Umm,” Sam blinked. “What are _you_ talking about?”

They could practically see the gears turning in Dean’s head. Jo cut in, quickly.

“Dean, you were drugged last night.”

If Sam was a little taken aback by how straightforward her statement was, Dean must have been blown away. He used his hands to slide himself along the floor, scooting farther away from Jo.

“What? That’s- that’s absolutely ridiculous. No. _No,_ ” Dean insisted, shaking his head vigorously. “Not in a million-”

Jo held up the little vial that Ruby had drawn medicine from. “I _know_ that you were, or else this wouldn’t have worked.”

Dean was still stuttering. “No. I didn’t do- I didn’t take anything. I’m clean!” He held his arms up to Sam and Jo, shaking.

“Someone must have slipped you something, then,” Jo said darkly.

Dean looked up to Sam, speechless. “Dean, you’re ok,” He assured his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Charlie didn’t leave you alone long enough for-”

“Charlie!” Dean interrupted, hysterical. He twisted around viciously, taking in his surroundings for the first time. “Charlie! Is she ok? Where is she?”

“She’s fine, she’s at home,” Sam held up his phone. Charlie had texted him about six times since they had left her place, begging for an update. “No one, umm, attacked you or anything like that,” Sam went on, hastily glossing over the real problem of the night. “But someone might have slipped something into a drink of yours, maybe?”

“What, you think I was roofied?” Dean asked, grinning. He wasn’t taking this seriously.

“That’s exactly what we think,” Jo answered him.

The grin disappeared. “One of the guys at the bar…” He trailed off, eyes closed tight. Sam leaned forward, clinging to every word. “Not me, though, Charlie. Some guy at the bar kept bothering her, even when she said she wasn’t interested, wasn’t even in to guys…” Dean opened his eyes and Sam could see the stubborn determination return. “So when he sent over a drink, I drank it myself. Oh God,” He leaned forward, rubbing his eyes hard with the back of his knuckles. “That bastard wanted to get to Charlie. I’m gonna tear his freakin’ lungs out!” Dean yelled, attempting to stand before Jo placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him to sit back down.

The noise brought Castiel and Ruby back into the room, framed in the doorway silently. Dean didn’t seem to notice them at first; he was patting down his pockets. “My phone, my wallet, my keys. Did I lose everything?” His eyes widened, horrified. “ _Baby. My car!”_

“Taken care of,” Ruby spoke up.

“If you broke her,” Dean raised a finger to Ruby threateningly.

“Relax. Balloon in the doorway, crossed a couple wires. If you ever get your keys back, you’ll be good as new,” Ruby explained, seeming bored.

“What do you mean, _if?”_ Dean was outraged.

“Dean,” Sam warned, looking back over his shoulder at Ruby, a moment that was not lost on his older brother.

“Sammy, if you let her touch my car…” Dean trailed off, still glaring at Ruby.

“Dean, calm down. There isn’t a scratch, and your car is parked in the lot right outside,” Sam tried to say calmly.

“Speaking of the parking lot,” Castiel piped up, stepping in to the room. “Next shift is getting in in about ten minutes. I assume you’ll want to be gone by then?”

Dean nodded, sheepishly. He was still rubbing his chest and he looked even more uncomfortable, sweating nervously.

Ruby moved around to Dean, pulling his arm over into her lap. He tried to jerk his hand away but she gripped him tight, hissing. “I’m just taking your IV out.”

Dean looked away from her as she worked, eyes back up to Sam. “Where are you taking me?” Sam hesitated. “You can’t take my home to Bobby’s. Not right now.”

“Dean’s right,” Jo agreed quietly. “My mom and Bobby, they’ll zero in on this _in a second._ For the sake of peace and quiet…”

“My roommate will throw a tantrum if I bring him back to my apartment,” Sam groaned.

“The feeling is mutual,” Dean said through gritted teeth. He was shivering violently.

Jo rolled her eyes. “My place then? He can sleep it off on the couch, wouldn’t be the first time.” Dean gave her the finger but smiled gratefully.

It was settled; they half-carried Dean out to lay him in the backseat of the Impala while the incoming shift of firemen filled the parking lot around them. Several of them knew Ruby, and she stayed to chat with a few as Castiel gave them a report of last night’s call volume. At one point in the conversation Jo turned to Ruby, placing a hand on her shoulder. The rest of the men turned to her expectantly, but she crossed her arms. The group broke up soon after that, the outgoing crew shivering in the cold. The clouds that had blown in covered Boston like a lid. It never snowed this early, but it was definitely threatening to rain.

Sam didn’t want to separate from Ruby quite yet, but Dean’s muttering in the backseat made it clear that she was _not_ welcome in the Impala again today. So Jo rode shotgun while Sam drove, with Castiel and Ruby not far behind them.

Despite the extremely stressful events of the morning, Sam couldn’t choke back his laughter when Castiel pulled out a set of keys and walked over to a gold Lincoln Continental.

Castiel actually stopped and looked up at Sam reproachfully. “What?”

“Dude…a Lincoln?” Sam almost looked around to see Dean’s reaction.

Ruby leaned up against the side, peering in through heavily tinted windows. “Really? What are you, a pimp?”

Castiel shifted on his feet, caught off guard. “I like it,” He said quietly.

Jo slid in to the Impala, biting back her own giggle. “It’s an antique, but he loves the thing.”

The streets weren’t crowded yet, and the two-car parade made it back down to the Roadhouse quicker than Sam could have hoped.


	23. Chapter 23

 

Dean was a wreck. He couldn’t stand on his own, he was pouring sweat and pale white like a ghost. He had been complaining of a head ache since they had pulled on to the highway. And, of course, it had started to rain. Sam sighed. Dean was obnoxious at best on any normal day; he was a _nightmare_ when he was sick.

It was really pouring by the time the small group had made it to the Roadhouse. Sam and Castiel, with their arms around Dean’s waist, hauled him in through the basement as Jo went before them to unlock the door. Ruby brought up the rear.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Dean said, coughing.

“No you won’t,” Jo insisted.

“Yes, I am. I’m gonna puke!” Dean shot back. He tried to twist away and while Sam let him go, Castiel only pulled him tighter to his side as they started the trek up the stairs.

“Dean, if you were going to be sick, you would have been already,” Castiel grunted.

“He’s right,” Ruby said while Jo nodded.

They made it to the second floor landing before Dean had absolutely had enough. He was trembling so violently now that his knees were giving out, and he dug his heels in hard.

“I need to sit down,” He demanded, doing his best to push Castiel away. The fireman wasn’t budging, only looking up to Jo a few stairs ahead.

“We can’t drag him all the way up to your room if he isn’t going to help at all,” Castiel reasoned.

“Stop talking about me like I can’t hear you,” Dean whined. He would have presented as a lot more threatening if he wasn’t collapsed on the landing, head between his knees.

“Until you’re going to stand up and stop me, I’m going to talk about you however I like,” Castiel responded dryly.

Dean apparently had nothing to say to this.

“We can’t get him up to Jo’s, but he can’t just sit here on the landing,” Ruby spoke up quietly. “He needs to be laying down.”

There was a moment or so of silence, before Castiel dug around in his pockets, pulling his keys back out. “My apartment it is.”

“Nu-uh, no way,” Dean groaned, letting his head slam back against the wall.

“You don’t really have a choice, Dean,” Jo explained, stepping around him to accept Castiel’s keychain and unlock his door. Dean cursed to himself, under his breath.

The door swung open and they pulled Dean in. Castiel had acquired a book shelf and a TV for the living room since Sam had seen the place last, but it was definitely out of the question. The ‘couch’ was really more of a loveseat, way too small for Dean. Castiel seemed to realize this about the same time the rest of them did, as he changed course to drag Dean in to the bedroom.

“You know, I’m fine, really,” Dean insisted hastily. “I’ll have no problem making it up to Jo’s.”

He demonstrated this by falling to the floor as soon as Sam and Castiel loosened their grip on his arms. Ruby snorted.

They arranged Dean on Castiel’s unmade bed. Sam bent down to pull his brother’s shoes off, while Dean muttered and weakly fought against him the whole time. Castiel went out to the kitchen to get him water and crackers.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve got some old clothes of you boy’s in my closet,” Jo offered. “They’ll fit you, Dean, if you wanted to change.” He nodded weakly and swallowed hard.

And so Sam, Castiel, Ruby, and Jo all sat in the kitchen while Dean struggled into the old pajamas pants and hoodie ( _“This is humiliating enough without you all standing around staring at me like a fucking-”_ )

“Does anyone need to be watching him, or anything?” Sam asked.

“He can stay here. Although I assume he’ll spend most of the morning asleep,” Castiel explained, moving around the counter to start up the coffee maker. It looked brand new- as did everything else in the tiny apartment, except for the books. _What had he done, sold everything and started over completely?_ Sam had a sneaking suspicion that he had.

“I’ll camp out with you, Cas,” Jo offered. “Sam, we’ll keep you updated.”

“No, I’ll stay. I can’t leave him,” Sam said, rounding on Jo.

“Forgive me, Sam,” Castiel began calmly, placing himself between the two of them. Ruby hadn’t moved, leaning quietly against the wall. “But you’re nearly useless here.”

“He’s right,” Jo said quickly, giving Sam no time to reply. “You’ve got no idea what you’re dealing with, Dean just needs to chill out and if you’re running around on edge, that’s not gonna happen.”

And that was the end of that. Sam followed the two of them around the kitchen, interjecting weak arguments here and there.

Before long, Ruby grabbed his sleeve and tugged him over into the living room. “Sam, enough,” she hissed, eyes like steel.

“He’s my-”

“Yeah, yeah, brotherly love, I get it. He’s not dying, he never was dying, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him.” Sam was too stunned to say a thing. “All Dean is going to do is sleep for a few hours, and roll out of bed with a massive headache. There’s nothing anyone can do. Nothing anyone _needs_ to do,” She added like an afterthought.

“Ruby, he was drugged,” Sam said incredulously.

“Yeah, and now he’s not. It wasn’t anything actually life threatening, anyways. Sitting around here making a fuss is going to do nothing but give him a _serious_ victim complex.”

“I can’t believe you would say something like that,” Sam spat through gritted teeth.

Ruby met him with a gaze like- well, like hellfire. Sam could feel himself evaporating like steam.  “Why are you even upset? I’m telling you that there isn’t a thing wrong with him, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“You could be a little more sensitive about it,” Sam insisted. Ruby rolled her eyes. “Look, if you’re going to-”

“If I’m going to what, Sam?” Ruby interrupted him.

He took a moment to collect his words. “You aren’t helping.”

“No, I’m just not helping the way _you_ think I should help,” she said simply. “But fine. I’m jumping off this shipwreck,” Ruby pushed past Sam and slung her backpack over her shoulder. Without another word, she was gone. Jo turned to roll her eyes at Sam and shake her head, leaving silently as well.

Sam sank down to the couch and rubbed his eyes with the back of his knuckles.

“No disrespect, Sam, but Ruby was incidentally right,” Castiel said quietly, moving in to sit in the chair across from Sam. “Maybe not the most tactful, but…”

“You think I shouldn’t have gotten angry at her?” Sam asked through the fingers masking his face.

“That’s not what I said,” Castiel pointed out, cocking his head. “Just that…you ought to appreciate her position.”

“And her position is?”

“She doesn’t know Dean, but I doubt that the reaction would have been different even if she did.” When Sam looked confused, Castiel elaborated. “Sam, I’ve been doing this for a long time. You can either treat a patient, or you can worry about a person that you care about. You can’t do both.”

“So what,” Sam joked. “You all just walk around soulless?”

Castiel chuckled. “For lack of a better term, yes.” He was quiet then, lacing his fingers together and breaking Sam’s gaze. “It hurts less.”

Sam was stunned. The moment reminded him of Ruby, earlier, when she went blank talking about the person who she couldn’t do anything more for. From what Sam could see of Castiel’s face beneath his shock of hair and long dark eyelashes, he was just as expressionless. Eager to change the subject, he grasped at straws.

“Cas, if I tell you something, will you keep it between us?”

“I swear, Sam,” Castiel said so solemnly that Sam almost wanted to laugh.

“Umm…I think my brother is gay. Or bisexual, or whatever. Something.”

The corners of Castiel’s mouth twitched, but otherwise he leaned forward very seriously. “Does that bother you?”

“No!” Sam promised. “It, uhh, it bothers me that he’s never said anything to me about it. Dean raised me, because my dad…John Winchester isn’t winning any parenting awards,” Sam shook his head. Castiel nodded sagely, though Sam didn’t know if it was understanding or solidarity. “Wait, that doesn’t bother _you,_ does it? Because I swear-”

“Nothing to worry about, Sam,” Castiel held up his hands in a mock surrender. “Homosexuality is part of nature, and certainly not a problem for me.”

Sam was relieved. Part of him wanted to barge right in through the closed bedroom door and give his brother a hug so tight his ribs would break, but the other part of him (the majority) knew that Dean would absolutely loathe being forced to talk about something like that.

“I mean, I only think so…” Sam went on, desperate to talk to _someone._ “He was at a gay bar last night, called Paradise.”

“Paradise? Where is that?” Castiel asked, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his cargo pants.

“It’s up north-ish, by MIT,” Sam waved his hand. He caught sight of Castiel’s deep stare and cleared his throat. _Oh my god, if Castiel is gay…I’ll never forgive myself for making him awkward._ “Umm, I don’t remember, but I could ask our friend Charlie, if you want?” Sam asked lamely, watching Castiel closely.

To his relief, the fireman smiled. “No need.”

Something tripped Sam’s memory and Castiel was forgotten. “We had lunch, a few weeks ago. The waiter was _totally_ hitting on him!” Sam exclaimed.

Castiel’s lips twitched again. “Did he mention anything about the waiter? About anyone from that weekend?”

Sam shook his head, still keeping a close eye on Castiel. The man nodded, flexing tense shoulders. _Tense why?_

Recognizing the signs of dangerous waters, Sam cleared his throat again. “So, should I apologize to Ruby?”

Castiel fixed him with an interesting look. “Do you feel that you need to?”

“Well, no,” Sam answered defiantly.

“Then don’t.” Castiel made it sound so simple, answering offhand. He inspected his phone, frowning. “What’s Tinder?” he asked out loud.

Sam laughed. “It’s a hookup app.” When Castiel gasped, horrified, Sam laughed harder. “You know, like instead of going on dates you just meet up for sex. Very popular these days.”

“I’m going to _destroy_ him,” Castiel muttered to himself, swiping through his phone quickly. “He is _dead._ ”

“Do I want to know?” Sam mused.

“My brother- my older brother. Gabriel,” Castiel growled, tossing his phone onto the coffee table like it had burned him. “Is quite the trickster. He must have signed me up!”

“It’s through your Facebook account,” Sam explained slowly.

Castiel shook his head and threaded his fingers through his thick hair, making it stand on end. “That wouldn’t be a problem for him. It wouldn’t at all be the first time he’s hacked in to anything of mine, somehow.”

Sam chuckled again, settling into the back of the armchair and rolling his head from side to side, cracking his neck. Castiel tapped his fingers angrily against the side of his own chair, glaring at his cell phone. He was extremely fidgety, casting Sam sidelong glances and making small, irritated sounds at the back of his throat. It was amusing, but Sam knew better than to comment. Not more than five minutes had passed before Castiel reached out and snatched his phone back off the table.

“How does it even work?” Castiel scoffed, squinting.

“Hacking into a phone?” Sam asked, grinning.

“No, Tinder. I mean, you know,” Castiel cleared his throat at least twice while choking out the sentence. “Since, umm, he signed me up for it.”

Sam pursed his lips, raising his eyebrows playfully.

“He’ll ask me about it,” Castiel blurted out. “Umm, he’ll ask me if I checked it out. So… I might as well spend a few minutes so that I can be honest when he asks?”

And so somehow, Sam spent that morning in Castiel’s living room. He had never known just how loud the little apartment was. Sam could hear Jo in her apartment upstairs, moving around on the scuffed wooden floors. When the Roadhouse opened beneath them Sam could practically feel the vibrations of the business in his feet. The classic rock soundtrack was almost loud enough that Sam could make out individual songs. The big dishwasher in the kitchen clanked to life and pulled water from the noisy pipes every hour or so. There must have been a game on the TV, because cheers and occasional _boo!_ ’s drowned out even the music.

It made Sam cringe. He was nearly about to ask Castiel how much he must have hated it, how badly he wanted to move, when he took the time to really _look._ Castiel was quiet, so Sam would have figured that he wanted to be surrounded by quiet. It appeared to be exactly the opposite. One of the times that Sam had been in the bathroom or peeking his head in on Dean, Castiel had thrown the windows in the communal area open, and Sam was startled to see that even the front door was standing ajar. Castiel was tapping his foot to the song that was on at the moment, something fast with a thick bass line. He smiled when they heard the patrons below them cheer, and rolled his eyes at the angry yells and pounding of fists.

Castiel loved the commotion, even if he wasn’t personally a part of it. When someone came pounding up the stairs, Castiel leaned forward in his chair to clear his line of sight.

It was Ash, who paused on the landing like a habit and flashed something similar to a peace sign at Castiel before continuing up to the top floor.

“You love it here,” Sam mused.

“I do,” Castiel agreed, blushing just the slightest bit. “These people…this _home_ ,” he said the words as if they tasted like honey, sweet and thick. “It’s remarkable. I would use the word family…” Castiel trailed off.

“Bobby, he always says that family doesn’t end in blood,” Sam told Castiel. “Look at Dean and I, we aren’t related to him at all. Ellen and Jo, too. Ellen has every right to hate us,” Sam said bitterly. “But she doesn’t. Practically adopted us. Bobby’s the kind of father that I hope to be.” Sam had never exactly spoken those words before, but as soon as he did something hard and invisible slammed into his chest. Growing up the way he did, he pushed parenthood to the very darkest corner of his thoughts and buried it there. How could he raise children? He couldn’t even remember his own father telling him he was _proud of him_ , much less the L-word. Sam was young still, only twenty three, but marriage and family didn’t seem as unobtainable as it had when he was crowded in the backseat of a car more hours of the day than not.

“Quite the romantic,” Castiel said, tilting his head.

Sam cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. “It was rough. Really rough. Just us,” He gestured to the closed door where Dean lay, sleeping. “And being out of that life…Being out of that life makes so many more things possible.”

“Like family?”

“…Yes,” Sam hesitated.

“You don’t sound so sure,” Castiel prodded.

“It’s my girlfriend…” Sam wasn’t quite sure how much he should tell Castiel. On one hand, he had never been incredibly public about his private life. On the other, this man had just taken his brother in at his weakest moment and given up his own bed to do so. The chance for distance was long past.

“Girlfriend?” Castiel asked, rather alarmed.

“Well, I don’t know about girlfriend. Ex, maybe,” Sam admitted. “We were supposed to be on a break, about a month ago. I don’t think she wants to get back together.”

“Do you want to get back together, Sam?” Castiel asked. “You seem very close with Ruby.”

Sam snorted. “Close? She stormed out of here, you call that close?”

“She was with you this morning in the first place, she came with you to pick up Dean, she brought him back to my station,” Castiel tapped his fingers, counting.

“That was just…”

“Just what?”

“I’ve been with Jess for two years. We met through school friends, we like all of the same stuff and we’re great together. And I love her,” Sam insisted. Castiel raised his eyebrows. “She’s a great girl. She would be a great wife, a great mother…She could be the one for me.”

“ _Could_ be _, would_ be _,”_ Castiel sounded annoyingly like Jo. “You seem very defensive about what is supposed to be the best relationship of your life.”

Sam grit his teeth. “I love Jess.”

“I’m not saying you don’t,” Castiel said gently. “Just, that that isn’t the first thing you’ve said about her.”

Sam was taken aback. “I’ve been with Jess since I started my grad work. She’s the first person who hasn’t treated me like-” Sam stopped abruptly, angry at himself for what he was saying. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Do you _want_ me to understand?” Castiel asked.

Sam sighed deeply, running his fingers through his hair. “Jess is the first person to treat me like- well, a person. Not just some shifty kid, hopping schools. She’s the first person who gave me any hope of being a normal human being.”

Castiel waited quietly, never breaking his eye contact with Sam. “What would you like me to say to you Sam?”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, confused. Castiel’s blue eyes were haunting, and everything he had been sure of was suddenly looking kind of lame.

“Do you want moral support or advice?”

 _Man, this guy needs to lighten up a little._ “Advice?” Sam answered, unsure.

This was all the permission that Castiel seemed to need. “Sounds to me like you’re confusing your feelings about this girl with your need for stability. You’re so desperate for your quote-unquote ‘normal life’ that you’re willing to attach to the very first person who offers you even the slightest escape.”

“Have you been talking to Jo?” Sam demanded.

This is where Castiel finally wavered, wrinkling his nose uncomfortably. “She has some good arguments,” he said. “And if it makes you feel better, she isn’t the only one who thinks that way.”

“It doesn’t,” Sam snapped. He didn’t even feel bad when Castiel looked hurt. “Is everyone talking about me behind my back?” He asked.

Castiel looked dejected. “They care about you.”

“If they cared about me, they would stay out of my personal business,” Sam huffed.

“That isn’t _family_ , Sam,” Castiel said sadly. “Family does what’s good for each other, even when it hurts.”

Sam sat quietly. He was angry, but he was reminded somehow of John. John certainly was never bothered with the needs of either of the boys. As long as they kept their head down and did what they were told, he couldn’t care less what happened in their personal lives. He could distinctly remember being shocked when Bobby remembered offhand the first name of one of his high school friends.

“Are you sure Dean will be ok?” Sam asked, craning his neck to peer over at Castiel’s closed bedroom door.

“I assure you,” Castiel answered, standing up to stretch. Upside down, Sam could see from his phone that he was still on one of the dating sights that Sam had helped him discover.

Back finally in his own apartment, Sam sank into bed. Brady had given him a _major_ cold shoulder when he had first let himself in. Sam would have to apologize to him later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my biggest shameless headcanon about Sam&Jess:  
> he only thinks that he loves her. She represents everything that he's always wanted, and she was the first person to give it to him. He's in love with the idea of her more than her as a person, great gatsby style.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy castiel wearing a beanie and roasting marshmallows. also, some drama.

“So this is the price of Sam Winchester’s soul.”

It was Brady, smirking, as Sam carefully knotted the tie he had been loaned, with the little American Express logo printed across the silk. Their argument that weekend had been forgotten, glossed over easily. Brady was a hothead, but he was not without reason.

“Not another word,” Sam turned around and whipped a throw pillow at his roommate’s head. “When the boss says you have to go to the career fair, you go to the career fair.”

“Yeah, but it’s a K-8 school. The oldest kids there are like, fourteen,” Brady teased. “What fourteen year old wants to wear a suit for the rest of his life?”

“I did,” Sam answered, shrugging into his coat jacket. “But the high school will be there this year too.”

Brady made some sort of coughing noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head.

“And it’s the school that my brother teaches at,” Sam reminded Brady, looking up to judge his reaction.

“So this is apparently the price of _both_ Winchester’s souls,” Brady said, grinning.

“My cousin is going to be there, with the fire department. My aunt is making food for one of the stands, and my uncle even has a booth for his auto shop. I’m in serious danger of disinheritance if I’m not there.” Sam leaned closer to the mirror above the mantel, inspecting his sideburns. It had been a while since his last haircut, but his boss hadn’t yet hit him with a cut-your-hair-it’s-unprofessional memo. Besides, Sam liked his long hair.

“Mass Gen has a booth out too, I think, checking blood pressures and stuff like that,” Brady said absentmindedly, returning to the magazine he had been flicking through.

Sam brushed his hair again, telling himself it had nothing to do with Brady’s statement.

 

* * *

 

 

The elementary school football field was already hectic by the time Sam and Kevin had dragged their table into the small space staked out for the company. Sam was more than a little disappointed to be so far from Bobby’s tent.

Every year, Singer Auto Shop claimed a large corner of the field. Bobby and Rufus arrived nearly at the crack of dawn, laying down plywood and tarps and finally enlisting the help of Sam and Dean in towing in a stripped down, beat up junker. For $10, anyone thirteen and older would be given a crowbar and five minutes by themselves with the car. The glass of the windows and mirrors were always removed, but it was still satisfying. In the more recent years, as the Singer booth had gotten more popular, college kids and parents started showing up to take their turn. Bobby made hundreds of dollars on a car he was going to have to scrap anyways. “ _Everyone wins,”_ Bobby would always say in his gruff voice. The beater money had paid for Sam and Jo’s textbooks on more than one occasion, or supplies for Dean’s classroom. Bobby and Ellen “had plans” for this year’s money, but refused to discuss it.

Sam recognized Charlie’s bright hair from across the field as she hurtled over to him. For being so tiny, she could really knock the wind out of a person. Kevin doubled over laughing when Sam stumbled backwards.

Charlie said nothing about the previous weekend to Sam, but he could see fear in her eyes whenever he looked directly at her. She danced nervously around the booth, and when Kevin excused himself to find a bathroom Sam pulled her in to another tight hug.

“Charlie, it’s not at all your fault. Dean doesn’t blame you, and neither do I.” Sam kissed the top of her head, for good measure.

“Thanks, Sam,” Charlie said quietly. He could hear her sniffling but by the time he released the embrace, there were no traces of tears.

It turned out that Kevin and Charlie knew each other (from LARPing or online gaming or something else equally obnoxious) which meant that the two of them were huddled together and Sam was left to more or less man the tent.

Which was awful.

Brady had been right; no kid dreamed of working 9-5 for the rest of their life. A few of the juniors and seniors seemed mildly interested in the summer intern program…before Sam mentioned that the pre-college summer gigs were unpaid. It also didn’t help that AmEx had given him a box of pens to hand out. The other booths belonging to boring companies at least had candy. Someone- _Santander, maybe? -_ was even giving out actual Frisbees emblazoned with a logo. The fire department as always had little plastic helmets and tiny plush Dalmatians. Dunkin’ Donuts was piloting some new plastic cup, one of the local gyms were handing out water bottles, and Mass Gen hospital was raffling off FitBits. Sam cleared his throat and straightened his pens on the table in front of him. It was chilly, and he pulled his hands as far back into his coat sleeves as he could while still holding his phone in front of him.

Sam was lost in a clickbait article ( _27 Spiders That Look Like Mariah Carey_ ) when Charlie squealed. Looking up he found Dean and Benny wandering over, shoulders hunched against the cold.

“Benny, you’ve met my little brother Sam?” Dean gestured quickly between the two men, before shoving his hands back into his pockets.

“Been a while,” Benny said, raising his eyebrows at Sam.

“Don’t you have kids to worry about, Dean?” Charlie asked, looking around. She taught 8th grade, so all of her own students were old enough to wander around by themselves.

“Mr. Wyatt is on demon duty at the moment,” Dean laughed. “And they’ll be over with the fire truck for ages, so I figured I’d…step away for a moment.” He ended his sentence dryly, looking down to shuffle his feet against the dead grass.

“Jo and Cas are here today,” Sam remembered suddenly. “I’ll have to make it over there…” He looked expectantly at Kevin, who sighed.

“I don’t know how you’ll find the time to sneak away,” Dean said loudly, picking up a piece of paper from the table in front of him. “Not with all these kids dying to fill out applications for credit cards.”

“It’s actually a brochure about our advanced placement pre-college business student summer internship,” Kevin corrected Dean.

“Even more exciting. Can I sign up?” Not waiting for an answer, Dean picked up one of the pens and knelt down with an application. The pen he had chosen didn’t work, and neither did the second one he grabbed. Charlie and Benny were in tears, laughing so hard. “Wow, no expenses spared today.”

Sam took the two pens away from Dean and tossed them into the nearby trash can. “If I wasn’t being paid overtime for this, I would be a little upset.” This made even Kevin crack a smile. After a few more minutes of teasing that nearly escalated into an all-out pen war, a pretty Asian girl who Kevin seemed to know wandered over. Sam took this opportunity to excuse himself.

Charlie walked beside him, clutching his arm and chatting happily about a computer workshop she had signed them both up for later in the month. Benny was a few steps behind them, with Dean dragging his feet at the end of the group. Sam and Charlie pretended not to notice how nervous Dean was about approaching the fire department.

“And it’s on Halloween!” Charlie squealed, shaking Sam’s arm so hard he was positive his shoulder had dislocated. “We could go out afterwards!”

“Uhh, no thank you,” Sam grimaced, quickly pulling his hand away from Charlie’s. She was puzzled, looking back to Dean to see the same unpleasant expression on the older Winchester’s face as well.

“What, you guys are gonna try your hand at trick-or-treating? You must be this tall to get any candy,” Charlie teased, waving her hand at a point around Sam’s bellybutton to show that he was much too tall to pass as a kid.

“Halloween ain’t really our thing,” Dean snorted.

Charlie gasped dramatically, fluttering her eyes and placing her hand over her heart. Benny laughed.

“But Halloween is so much fun now!” Charlie exclaimed. “There are costume parties and haunted houses…” She kept babbling, but Sam turned around to catch Dean’s eye.

Jess loved Halloween too, always trying to coordinate couple’s costumes and dragging him from one party to the next. He put up with it, barely, because he knew how much it meant to her. Usually there were enough tequila shots to drown out any unpleasant memories.

_Halloween was the anniversary of that explosion, with the walls of the motel coated in blood that wasn’t fake and limbs that weren’t plastic._

Charlie gave up after a few minutes or so of the one-sided conversation. It was in uncomfortable silence that the small group passed Ellen’s Roadhouse stand and the rest of the food trucks, the crowds in front too thick to be worth pushing their way through.

“I wish I was a kid again,” Charlie complained loudly, tugging the edges of her sweater closer together. It was overcast and the air had a sharpness that threatened to turn in to snow, but the elementary school students weaving in and out of the crowds were oblivious to the weather.

“Well if you would dress warmer,” Benny spoke up sarcastically, popping the collar of his own thick overcoat.

Charlie turned back to him with a withering look. “Cardigans are the whole reason I became a teacher!”

“Yeah, I’ll leave the sweaters for you and Dean,” Benny replied, laughing.

            It was warmer for sure in the small throng of people surrounding the fire trucks. There were two this year, and an ambulance, and a few police cars. There was a small fire pit _(“How funny that the fire department brings a bonfire and sets up a s’mores stand,” Charlie pointed out)_ that Castiel, Jo, and the other two fireman seemed to be caught up in at the moment. Charlie immediately gravitated towards the police cars and uniformed officers, which may have been because of the hot chocolate or because of the pretty blonde officer handing it out.

“All this needs is some Schnapps,” One of the police officers remarked, walking over to stand beside Benny. He cast his eyes around the small group hungrily, which made Sam shift on his feet. The officer smirked as Sam shuffled to bring him closer to Charlie. “Don’t you think? Liquored up?” The man asked, turning his attention to Dean.

Who coughed on his own cup of hot chocolate. Sam expected Dean to smirk right back, to make some sort of jab at the man or downright ignore him. He definitely did not expect his older brother to clear his throat and sniffle, flex his fingers around the small cardboard cup or blush and nod when he made eye contact with the officer.

Which is _exactly_ what Dean did. Benny rolled his eyes and Charlie elbowed him, but neither Dean nor the officer seemed to notice.

 “Nick Munroe. _Officer_ Munroe,” The man said, extending his hand. Benny shook it carefully, and Nick’s face soured momentarily when Sam kept his own hands wrapped firmly around his hot chocolate.

“Sam! Dean! It’s been too long!” Jody Mills made her way over happily to hug the brothers. “Bobby’s managed to keep quiet all this time, huh?” She teased. Jody was the Sheriff at the precinct down closest to the Roadhouse and Singer Auto. A couple of 911 calls had somehow managed to turn into a grudging friendship that surprised everyone, and these days Jody and Bobby seemed to genuinely enjoy each other.

“Ahh, you know my sheriff?” Nick asked, turning to quite literally give Sam the cold shoulder. He clapped Dean on the back. “We’ll have to grab a beer sometime, you can tell me how to get under her skin.”

“Not even these two could do it,” Jody warned him.

Dean laughed. “Jody, this is Charlie,” the redhead waved. “And Benny. They teach at my school,” Dean puffed his chest up proudly, eyes darting over to Nick as he spoke.

 If Sam was embarrassed for Dean, Benny was downright mortified. He threw his arms around Sam and Charlie, steering them around to face away from the police officers. The fire crew was fun to watch, distributing marshmallows and little plastic fire helmets. Even Chuck, who almost always looked miserable, seemed to have eagerly taken on the role of handing out stickers. Jo looked up brightly and waved them over.

 Benny wasted absolutely no time in helping himself to a bar of chocolate, breaking off a piece to offer to Charlie. Jo wiped graham cracker dust off on to her pants and made her way over to Sam, an annoyed look on her face.

“Why is Dean talking to Nick Munroe?” She asked shrewdly, eyes narrowed. She was wearing her uniform turnouts and a navy blue beanie that read BOSTON FIRE DEPT. across the front.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at the pair of men. “Umm, I don’t know. We just met him.”

Jo grumbled, balling her hands into fists on her hips. Sam was too busy scanning the crowd for Ruby to notice how tense his friend was. _It’s stupid to think she might be here…_ He thought to himself, eyes on the cluster of people grouped around the booth set up by Mass Gen. He made eye contact with Castiel, who smiled. The man handed his stack of red plastic fire hats off to an EMT and picked his way through the crowd, frowning when he noticed Jo’s posture.

“Everything ok? Sam?” Castiel asked, pulling his own hat down lower over his ears.

“What? Yeah,” Sam answered, shaking his head. He hadn’t seen Ruby. “Umm, are you?”

Castiel offered another crooked smile, running his hands together. “It’s cold here, farther away from the fire. Why don’t we move?”

Sam shrugged while Jo jutted her chin over to Dean angrily, making a sort of growl in the back of her throat.

Castiel wasn’t smiling anymore. He gripped Jo by her upper arm and made a motion to tug her away when Jody dismissed Dean, who motioned Nick to walk over with him.

It was no secret that Dean thrived on attention. Didn’t matter who from or what about, he preened like a bird in the spotlight. And Sam knew enough about his brother to understand that Dean was very much enjoying himself around this new friend of his. Sam could hear that they had already seemed to bond over Nick’s Led Zeppelin ringtone, jabbering excitedly about “the good old days” that neither of them were even alive for.

“…I’m just saying, man, you can’t beat Ramble On. Like, _ever,_ ” Dean’s voice was loud. Sam mentally prepared himself for the Zeppelin rant that was sure to follow.

“Hell yeah,” Nick agreed. “Did you know it was influenced by a Tolkien poem?”

“Nah, my brother’s the nerd,” Dean waved his hand, reaching out close enough by now to smack Sam gently across the back. “And these are, umm-” Dean cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact with Jo or Cas.

“Oh, I know them,” Nick announced smugly, digging in his heels and crossing his arms. “You’re a teacher, Dean? Teach your friends here not to sympathize with murderers.”

Sam balked, mouth hanging open in horror. He turned around to see Nick, wearing the most villainous grin Sam had ever seen. Dean stopped cold in his tracks, looking at Sam in confusion before focusing on the two firefighters.

Jo cocked her head, cracking her neck. Sam could see her fingernails cutting crescents into the palms of her hands, arms so tense they were visibly shaking even in her long sleeves.

“Or to help them get away,” Nick went on. He wasn’t speaking loudly but his words seemed to roar in the wind.

“We didn’t-” Castiel’s stony expression looked terrifying.

“Oh, you did quite a bit. Your friends don’t know?”

“There are policies-procedures,” Castiel sounded so strained; he was clearly spitting the words out through gritted teeth. “There are things that are done in those situations, and I-“

_“_ And you _what?”_ Nick asked. “What did you do, exactly? Would you like to say it, or should I?”

“And I was right,” Castiel challenged the officer. “And I would do it again.”

Nick smirked, scratching the side of his jaw. He looked over to Jo. “What about the hug?”

Jo said nothing, just met Nick with a glare.

“Tell me, sweetheart, how many times before have you hugged a murderer?”

Jo looked down at her feet. Sam was still frozen, unable to speak. Dean had literally taken several steps back from the conversation, tripping over two women who were coming up behind him.

Meg and Ruby.

“Get outta here, _rookie,_ ” Meg said scathingly. She and Ruby stepped in front of the firefighters defensively.

“Wonderful. Weren’t you two involved?”

Ruby scoffed. “You haven’t read the report?”

“Nah,” Meg teased, eyes glinting strangely in the frosty air. “Doesn’t have the clearance.”

Nick’s smug smile faltered at this. “Legally-”

“ _Legally,_ you need to shut your god damn mouth,” Meg warned. “Don’t turn this into a crisis team shitstorm. You’ll lose.”

Nick sneered, seeming to weigh his options. Meg smiled widely, with enough malice to make Sam suddenly uncomfortable. “Gonna come show your class around the police cars, Dean?” He asked. Sam stared in disbelief as his older brother nodded solemnly, following the officer away.

“He can’t talk about it like that,” Ruby said quietly as the two walked away.

“It’s going to blow up all over the news soon,” Castiel told her in a shaky voice. “The news crews came to the station this morning for interviews.”

“God, I want to stab him in the fucking face,” Meg was still watching the officer walk away. “I hope you didn’t tell them anything.”

“We didn’t,” Castiel growled. “ _We_ still have decency.”

“Well you know that no one’s talked to him,” Ruby said, rolling her eyes. “Obviously, he had next to nothing to do with it.”

“He was on scene,” Castiel sighed.

“Didn’t actually get to come to the department, though,” Meg laughed. “Probably went straight back to the office to fill out paperwork. You ok?” Meg added, nodding at Jo.

Jo turned on her heel and walked back over to the truck, taking the rolls of stickers from Chuck and began to hand them out herself. Meg raised her eyebrows at Ruby before following the younger blonde.

Castiel sighed again, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It’s going to be bad, when this gets out.”

Ruby grimaced. “Glad I was stuck out in triage that night.”

“Hmmph.” Castiel nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :o   
> drama queens!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> huge trigger warning for this chapter. i'm gonna say it twice.  
> pretty heavy talk about child abuse, domestic abuse, and the death of a young child. if this isn't for you, please skip this chapter. i can answer questions about any info you might have missed in the comments section. seriously, don't feel bad if you have to skip this chapter. it's a shorter one for a reason.
> 
> the purpose of writing this fic is because 1) i love sam&ruby and there were hardly any fics of them and 2) because the medical field is so vastly misrepresented in the world of fanfiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***heavy trigger warning here for (mentions of) child abuse, domestic abuse, and death of a young child***
> 
> ill go through all of the medical terms at the end of the chapter, never fear.

 

Sam didn’t see Dean very much for the rest of the morning. The career fair only lasted until noon, when the schools packed up and students went back to classes. Adam had taken a moment to stop by the American Express booth, which made Sam happy in a sad sort of way. He had tried to spend time with his younger brother, but it was difficult. As full time students, the two brother’s schedules never seemed to match up. From what Sam could understand Dean was..distant with Adam. Sincere enough, but didn’t really seem to make it a priority to include him.

Sam had stood in the field as it emptied around him, hands in his pockets. Jo was in a horrible mood ever since the weird run-in with Nick Munroe, jumping straight on the T to go back home. Castiel and Ruby found him, adopting him into plans for lunch at the Roadhouse.

“What, no Jo?” Ellen asked when she made her way around to their booth in the corner.

The three glanced around nervously before Sam cleared his throat and spoke up. “She had a bad morning. Didn’t feel like socializing.”

Ellen’s eyebrows knit together, glancing back at the door concealing the stairways to the upper levels.

“There was an incident,” Castiel said, before Ellen could march right upstairs and bother Jo for information herself. “With one of the officers from Wednesday night.”

Ellen’s shoulders slumped and she smiled painfully. “It’s going to be a rough couple of days. You there too?” She asked Ruby.

Ruby shrugged. “Kinda. I was in another assignment. Didn’t really deal with the kid much.”

Ellen looked like she was about to say something else, but was interrupted by a large group of regulars calling her name as they entered. Castiel excused himself to the bathroom, and Sam used his chance to corner Ruby.

”What was that all about?” He asked. “They all seemed pretty angry at each other.”

Ruby sighed, swirling a few fries around her plate across the pool of ketchup. She chewed thoughtfully before answering. “They had every right to be angry. That officer, Munroe…He’s an ass. He has no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Jo was pretty upset by it all,” Sam countered. “It must have meant something.”

Ruby’s eyes hardened dangerously, and Sam nearly regretted bringing the matter up.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, either.” She was quiet after that, caught up with her French fries. “I guess, since it’s going to be all over the news sooner or later…” She trailed off, straightening up and wiping the salt off her fingers. “On Wednesday night, Jo and Cas responded to a call. It wasn’t too late, maybe…9:30?” She mused, before shaking her head and going on. “It was a pediatric code- little kid found in a bathtub. Drowned.” Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “Young, too. Under two years old. Anyways, they get the 911 call about a child in a bathtub. They get to the house, start with CPR and medications and get the kid into the ER, quick.” Ruby stopped again, lining up the silverware on the table in front of her. She wouldn’t meet Sam’s eye, but her voice didn’t shake. “They-the ER crew- worked the kid for a long time. An hour, almost.” Sam suddenly didn’t feel hungry anymore, pushing his salad across the table away from him. Ruby raised an eyebrow at this, but didn’t stop her story. “Didn’t get any results. Cas said it was obvious at the house even that it wasn’t gonna mean anything.”

“If it was obvious at the house, why did they bring the kid into the hospital?” Sam asked, genuinely curious.

“What are you going to do, walk away from that?” Ruby asked sarcastically. “It’s a kid. You can’t just _not_ try with babies, even if you know what the outcome will be. We’re disassociated, not heartless.”

Sam truly had nothing to say. The back of his neck burned with embarrassment. Ruby sounded challenging, but Sam wouldn’t rise to the bait.

After she was satisfied with his silence, Ruby went on. “Well, the longer they let the body sit…the baby didn’t drown. Bruises don’t lie, even after you’ve died.” Ruby added after Sam raised his eyebrows. “One or both of the parents…” Ruby’s story was choppy, and she seemed like she was dancing around for words. “They seemed to believe that if the emergency crew found the child in the bathtub, if it looked like the kid drowned, nobody would be able to tell that it hadn’t happened that way.”

Sam was horrified. His stomach twisted and he caught himself grinding his teeth. “But…what was the officer talking about? About helping the murderers?”

Ruby clenched her fists on the table. “He’s an asshole.”

“Is that why Jo was upset? They couldn’t save the kid?”

Ruby looked at Sam strangely. If she had been carefully choosing her words before, now she was absolutely censoring herself. “Maybe.” She said the word as if the real answer was a definite _NO._ “What Nick was saying…” She rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. “The house was a crime scene. A child was strangled by a parent, who tried to pass the death off as a drowning. But when the paramedic crew came rushing in and grabbed the kid, they destroyed that crime scene. The police are going to charge the parents with child abuse and murder and all that stuff, but it’s going to be really hard to hold that up in court. They might even go free.”

“Why?” Sam asked. “They know what happened. They have bruises to prove it!”

“The thing about CPR, about working a code,” Ruby reminded him. “Is that it’s _very_ violent. It’s literally almost the worst thing that can happen to you, short of actually dying. Ever taken a CPR class?” Sam shook his head, and Ruby clicked her tongue. “It’s practically an assault. Chest compressions snap the ribs and the breastplate. Intubation- shoving a thick-ass plastic tube down into a person’s lungs to breathe for them when they can’t do it on their own. And it’s hard to start an IV on a little kid. So the hospital uses something called an IO route, which is where you take a literal actual power drill and drive a hole straight in to someone’s bone in order to use the line to inject medications.” _Yeah, Sam was for sure going to be sick._ “It’s brutal. It’s worth it, of course, because sometimes you can save a person’s life. Anyways, the point is, the process of doing everything you can to bring a person back can leave some pretty nasty bruises. And it can be really hard, especially with small bodies, to prove which bruises are done by us and which bruises are done by the parents. That’s what Munroe was talking about, about helping the killers,” Ruby said bitterly. “The fire crew, the hospital, they destroyed almost every shred of hard evidence that the prosecutors would have had.”

Sam sat, stunned, taking in the information. “And the thing about the hug?”

Ruby wrinkled her nose. “Personally I hate interacting with the family. I guess the mom followed the ambulance to the ER, crying, and Jo gave her a hug and told her it would be ok. That must be what Munroe was talking about.”

“And you…weren’t there?”

“I was working that night,” Ruby returned to her French fries. “But in another assignment. So I never actually came into contact with the patient or the officers or anything. Someone has to run the rest of the ER while everyone else is running a code.”

Castiel chose this exact moment to drop back into the booth. Sam suspected that he had been waiting behind the table until the conversation was over before coming back.

“Jo tells me that you might be able to sneak me in to the university library,” Castiel deliberately took control of the chat, turning to Sam. “What would it cost me?”

Sam smiled, goosebumps still taking up his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "IO route" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intraosseous_infusion
> 
> "intubation" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tracheal_intubation
> 
> "working triage" https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emergency_Severity_Index so every one in the ER gets their assignment for the day. "triage" is essentially the first step, when patients come in the front door of the emergency room (not brought by an ambulance) to check in. The triage crew (a nurse and a tech at my hospital, but some are different) will take some vital signs, get the story about why you're in the ER, and then assign you an acuity based on how bad the "emergency" that you are having really is. so if you're in the ER and youre upset that people are being brought to the back first even though you've been there longer, then theyre in way worse shape than you are. 
> 
> yes, this exact scenario in this chapter has actually happened where i work. chances are, if you know someone in the medical field, they've seen or heard of something similar. please do not ask them about it. everyone has their own coping mechanism. some of us are better than coping at others, which i'm trying to show in the dynamic between ruby, jo, and castiel. theres a heavy amount of disassociation among emergency medical service workers. no method of coping is wrong and no mathed is better or worse than any others. everyone is different, every situation is different. just remember that we're all here to help each other!


	26. Chapter 26

 

**_Castiel, 35_ **

**_Lived in Marshall, Texas_ **

**_Friends with Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle_ **

****

Dean blinked hard a few times, brightening up the backscreen of his phone. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted the screen to change or for confirmation that it was real. Sure enough, when he opened his eyes one last time, there it was.

Castiel’s profile.

_On Tinder._

Admittedly, it was an excellent picture. He was smiling, laughing even, on a sunny boardwalk. The ocean behind him paled in comparison to his bright blue eyes…

Dean was torn. If Castiel’s profile had come up for him, surely the other man had seen that he was on Tinder also. He could swipe left, easy, and just ignore it. Or he could swipe right…

Which brought on a whole new set of problems. What if they matched? What would he say? Or, worse, what if they _didn’t_ match. What if Castiel had seen Dean’s profile and swiped left? What if he wasn’t impressed with Dean after that one steamy makeout session almost a month ago? Surely, after the morning Dean had spent in Castiel’s bed after the drug episode must have been a major turn off.

“Dude, are you hearing me at all?” Sam pulled him back to reality. Dean quickly tossed his phone away, deciding to deal with the matter later.

“Uhh, yeah. Wait, no. What’s up?”

Sam sighed, annoyed. “Jo’s, tonight? She wants us to come over and watch movies.”

Dean groaned. Jo _knew_ that the boys didn’t do Halloween. She didn’t either, really, which was probably why she had the same stupid movie party every year. It was a safety net, a reason to miss the big parties, and an excellent excuse to get blackout drunk and not have to worry about how to get home.

“C’mon, Sammy, I’m always there,” Dean said, standing up to stretch.

“Does that mean you will be there tonight, or you won’t because you’re sick of it?”

Dean smiled. “I’ll be there, I’ll be there.”

Sam was satisfied, raising his beer in a mock toast. The two sat in Bobby’s kitchen; Dean home from work for the day and Sam waiting for Adam to get home from school. When the youngest brother did finally make his way in through the front door, Dean excused himself to go upstairs and change into more comfortable clothing. One of these days, he would have to try and talk Principal Tran into starting a casual Friday rule. He could hear Sam and Adam talking downstairs before the two of them left the house.

Dean picked his phone up again, chewing his lip as he made his decision. He let his fingers hover over the screen for a few moments. He’d have to make a choice sooner or later, and he chose sooner.

**_It’s a match!_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if youre not familiar with tinder...
> 
> so you make your profile (it links with your facebook) and itll show you a bunch of people (you can choose males, females, or both) within a certain radius. if you like them, you swipe right. if you dont, you swipe left. if two people mutually swipe right to each other, than you get a match. and you can only talk to people that you have matched with. tinder will give you a little blurb about each person, along with their picture.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys, ive been rewatching season 6 lately. get ready for souless, tactless, what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you sam. also, because i am also full to the brim with self-loathing and self destructive tendencies, have a new update on deans love life.

****

Sam dropped Adam off at Bobby’s before making his way up to Jo’s. He had taken his younger brother back to his own apartment, to meet up with Brady and another med school friend about what they could do to help Adam keep his medical school dream alive.

In the end, the two were incredibly unhelpful. Sam spent most of the quick meeting grinding his teeth, fingers curled tightly in to fists. Brady himself wasn’t so bad, but the infectious disease specialist he had brought with him was an absolute asshole. At least the two had left quickly, shaking their heads when Sam declined their invitations to some frat party.

Adam sat at the kitchen table when they left, his head propped up by his hands.

“Don’t listen to them,” Sam said softly. He felt like Dean, doing damage control for his younger brother.

Adam was quiet for a while. “Your friends are dicks,” He mumbled under his breath. Upon catching Sam’s glare, he laughed. “I mean, I thought _Dean’s_ friends would be the ones who were dicks. Cuz, you know, Dean’s one. Not your friends.” Sam was laughing by the time Adam finished.

“Dean isn’t that bad,” Sam chided.

Adam rolled his eyes at Sam, grimacing. _Oh yeah, this kid is definitely blood._ “He doesn’t want to teach me to drive.”

“He just doesn’t want you driving the Impala,” Sam said, biting back a smile. “Borrow one of Bobby’s pieces of junk, I bet he’ll teach you.”

“It’s dad’s car, isn’t it?” Adam asked.

Sam ground his teeth, taking a moment to decide what to say.

“He left it to Dean?” Adam went on. It seemed like this had been on his mind for quite a while. “I remember it, when I was little.”

“I don’t-” Sam started to say. Any lie he could have told seemed lame. “Yeah, he did. You were too young when he went to prison, and dad and I…didn’t get along.”

“What happened?” Adam crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t seen dad in…in _years._ Mom just stopped mentioning him.”

“When he was put away the first time…I was thirteen. Ten years ago.”

“Which made me what, five?” Adam blinked hard. “Wow, you’re that much older than me?”

“ _Anyways_ ,” Sam shook his head. “There was an accident. A _bad_ accident. People died.” Adam scrunched up his nose, but said nothing. “But I guess they didn’t have enough to actually keep him for any amount of time. Ended up being like, six months or so. Dean and I wouldn’t testify against him. So we were here a bit, with Bobby and Ellen, before he got out and picked us back up. After that, things were…”

Adam shifted in his seat, looking away from Sam. He muttered under his breath a few times, apparently doing some mental math. “Did he ever get you guys in to it?”

“Oh yeah, we bought a big RV and moved to New Mexico,” Sam said sarcastically. Adam smirked. “A lot of the same- moving around, shady places. It was more like we worked for him than were his sons.”

“Worked for him? You said you didn’t-”

“Nothing to do with the drugs,” Sam added hastily. That was his line in the sand and he was staying on the other side. “Petty stuff. Robberies, mostly. Hacking in to credit cards statements and bank accounts. Roughing people up for him, people who hadn’t paid up or were going to talk.”

Adam tried (and failed miserably) to cover up a laugh as a coughing fit. “Come on, you aren’t serious. You? Breaking in to something, fighting someone?” Sam raised his eyebrows. “Dude, you’re a law student.”

“Well, I was good enough to have not gotten caught,” Sam huffed. “Plus I got out, I came out here.”

“Dean didn’t?” Adam asked.

Sam hesitated again, rubbing the back of his neck. “For a while. There was someone, a girl-“

“ _A girl?”_ Adam interrupted Sam again. “Like, a woman? His age?”

“Yeah, uhh, or maybe a year or tw-” Sam was thrown. “Wait, that’s surprising?”

“Well, the girl part,” Adam scoffed. At Sam’s frown he widened his eyes, horrified. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. Shit, I swear!”

Sam looked around and lowered his voice, even though he knew no one else was in the apartment. “You think he’s gay too?”

Adam was wary. “Maybe…”

“I think he might,” Sam said. “I was talking to our friend Castiel about it-”

“Dude, you _outed_ him?” Adam was shocked. “He’s an ass sometimes, but you can’t do that!”

Sam faltered. It hadn’t even occurred to him how many boundaries he had broken, giving away Dean’s personal life. The personal life that Sam himself wasn’t so sure about in the first place. He shrugged, sheepish. “Anyways, what makes you so sure?”

Adam grinned. “You and Dean aren’t that close, are you?” Sam didn’t reply. “He’s been hanging out with this guy a lot. Like, almost every evening.” Despite chastising Sam, Adam certainly loved to gossip. “Going out for beers, watching the games…”

“Lot’s of guys do that. Brady and I do that,” Sam argued.

“He spent the night at the guy’s place,” Adam whispered dramatically. “ _Twice!_ And once on a night that he worked the next day!”

That was the one that actually threw Sam for a loop. Dean would go out on school nights occasionally, but he was always so careful when he did. Never having more than three drinks, always sure to have a way home.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s dating the cop, but…” Adam trailed off as his phone chimed in his pocket. _Was the kid ever not texting?_

“Wait, cop?” Sam’s interest spiked.

“Yeah, the guy had his uniform on one time.” Adam answered nonchalantly.

* * *

 

Sam thought about that the whole way back to Bobby’s. It was obviously Nick, it couldn’t have been anyone else. He wanted his brother to be happy…

But not with Nick. The small amount of time Sam had met the guy, how he had terrorized Jo, coupled with Ruby’s story…

Dean was there when he walked Adam in. He had all of his binders strewn out across the only table in the kitchen, no doubt drawing up lesson plans.

“These are next week’s plans?” Sam asked, looking down over his brother’s shoulder. “Friday night, seems a little late to be figuring this stuff out.”

“I had a busy week,” Dean grunted, hunching over.

Sam caught his younger brother’s eye and Adam looked away, grinning.

“Still coming to Jo’s, right?”

“I said that I would,” Dean reminded him, reaching across the table for his beer bottle. He sighed when he realized it was empty, scratching his head and looking up to Sam. “Charlie still bothering you about tomorrow?”

Sam nodded. “She’s even gonna be here at Jo’s tonight and she still won’t quit about tomorrow night too.”

“Well tomorrow is the _actual_ Halloween,” Adam piped up from the study.

Dean grumbled at the doorway. Sam shot him a look. _Be nice._

“I, uhh, I might be cutting out a little early tonight anyways,” Dean was paying way too much attention to his papers when he said this.

“What?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, I might be doing something later.”

“Doing what?” asked Sam. “With who?”

Dean blushed, thumbing through his notebooks.

“Do you have a date?”

The only answer Sam got was a small nod.

“With who?”  


“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean stood up angrily. “It’s not like we have to be glued together all the time. You want me to stay tonight, hold your hand? Tuck you in to bed?” Dean gathered up his binders and turned to leave the kitchen.

“Nick Munroe?” Sam asked, heart pounding.

Dean dropped his papers. Sam could already see his brother’s nerves on fire. Without turning around, and deadly quiet, said “Who?”

_This was a bad idea._ “Nick Munroe, the cop? Spending any time with him lately?”

Dean cracked his neck and stomped upstairs.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys, ive been so busy with school i havent taken any time to write! ill crank out some more whenever i can:)

_Oh shit._ It was low, really low, to try to corner Dean. Sam knew it. He stood in the kitchen, hands swinging awkwardly at his sides.

“Ohhhkay…” Adam said slowly. “I was wrong. Dean’s not a dick, _you are.”_

Sam rounded on his younger brother, speechless. Adam threw up his hands and scurried up the stairs after Dean, slamming the door shut to his own bedroom across the hall. Turns out the kid had the Hereditary Winchester Avoidance Gene after all.

As he stood in the kitchen, chewing on his lip, Sam’s phone rang.

**Harvelle’s RoadHouse**

Ellen knew he was at the house, it wasn’t uncommon that she’d call him.

“Hello? Ellen?”

Silence. “Uhh, try again.” _Jo._

“Jo?” That was weird. Why would Jo call him from the phone by the bar, instead of her cell? Or instead of just texting him.

“Yeah, hey Sam!” There was shuffling on the other end. Jo had an obnoxious habit of twirling the phone cord around her fingers as she talked, and it sounded like that’s what she was doing now. “Um, where are you?”

“I’m at your mom and Bobby’s…she didn’t tell you?” The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck were standing up. Something wasn’t adding up.

Pause. _Long pause._ Like someone was trying to talk to Jo. “Some of your friends are here at the bar, and-” Now someone was definitely talking to Jo. “Umm, just come over when you can.”

Before Sam had even had a chance to hang up, his phone was pinging off his text alert.

**Jo:** Girlfriend is here. And that blonde douche. Pissed.

**Sam:** They’re pissed, or you are?

**Jo:** Hahahaha. Both.

Sam groaned, letting himself sink down in to one of the chairs at the table. It had been a month now since that morning in his apartment, and Jess hadn’t tried to reach out to him once. Now she was back, at the Roadhouse, with Brady.

**Sam:** Tonight is going to be a disaster

**Jo:** Time to pay the piper ;) Or me actually, for fielding this for you.

Sam rolled his eyes.

**Sam:** Dean is pissed at me.

Jo didn’t text back. Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, letting his hands lock together behind his neck.

_This wasn’t like him._

He had been ignoring Jess and it wasn’t like him.

**Sam:** I don’t know what to say to her.

Still no reply from Jo. It was tempting to sneak away, but how? Brady would come find him if he went home, most likely with Jess in tow. The two spare bedrooms here at Bobby’s were being occupied by his brothers who were angry at him.

_I have to come up with something._ Sam thought to himself, rubbing at the nerve twinging in the back of his neck. What could he possibly come up with? He didn’t know how to break up with someone- moving around during his childhood took care of that problem for him. He also didn’t know how to _stay_ in a relationship, either, thanks to that.

Sam traced the ruts in the table absentmindedly, scratching at the deeper crevices. Like just about everything else Bobby owned, it was stained and splintered and used almost past its prime. The chair in the corner still wobbled on its back leg, the one Bobby had replaced after Dean crashed right through it on a skateboard. _Old man really needs to get some new furniture._

The front door opened slowly and Sam grimaced, craning his neck to see around the corner.

“Sam?” Castiel’s rough voice was quiet, and he closed the door behind him before calling out again. “Sam?”

“Kitchen,” Sam answered, sitting up straight in his chair.

Cas rounded the corner with his hands up in a mock surrender. “It’s just me,” he smirked, but his eyes looked worried as he took in the expression on Sam’s face.  “You look…troubled.”

“You’re like an angel answering my prayers, Cas,” Sam pulled the chair out beside him, gesturing to the older man to sit down.

Cas raised his eyebrows, but took the chair. He folded his hands in front of him and tilted his head to look at Sam, lips no longer curved in to a smirk. “I certainly didn’t inherit angelic powers from my namesake, but you’re more than willing to try me.”

Sam sighed again, running his thumb over the smoother parts of the table. “You’re an adult,” He began.

“Uhh…yes?” Castiel answered.

“I mean, like…I don’t know what I mean,” Sam hesitated, searching for words. He barely knew this guy. He shouldn’t be bothering a practical stranger for relationship advice. “You’ve, umm, done adult things. With adult people.”

Castiel leaned back just a fraction of an inch in his chair, but otherwise his posture didn’t change. His forehead crinkled up as he frowned, eyes narrowing. He didn’t say anything, still staring pointedly at Sam.

“God, I’m- This is not-” Sam sighed again, frustrated. “I don’t know what to do. About my girlfriend.” Castiel’s expression relaxed somewhat. “I don’t have the slightest idea what to do about relationship troubles. My longest relationship before Jess was about two weeks, and I was 15. And Dean and my dad broke that up pretty fast,” Sam grimaced.

“You…want to know how to break up with your girlfriend?” Castiel asked slowly, never taking his eyes from Sam’s face.

“Not break- I don’t know. How does this usually work?”

Castiel laughed. “I don’t know about ‘usually,’” he said. “What are you going for here?”

Sam paused, resolve faltering. He was so tired. “I don’t even know what real relationships are supposed to look like,” he said quietly. “My mother died when I was a baby. My father was apparently in a very serious relationship with another woman, a whole other _family,_ which I had no clue about.” Sam waved his hand in the direction of the stairs.

“Bobby and Ellen?” Castiel offered.

“They’re- that doesn’t count,” Sam bit his lip. “I love them to death, and I know they love each other, but it’s hardly the love story of the ages.”

Castiel pursed his lips like he might disagree, but remained silent.

Sam powered on. “All we ever did was move around. I could hardly keep _friends,_ let alone maintain any sort of romance. And Dean has never, _ever_ had anything remotely resembling a healthy relationship. I’ve got no one to learn from.”

Castiel looked pained at these last few statements, eyes flickering just for a moment from Sam’s face to the ceiling, where they could hear someone upstairs moving around.

“This is something you’ll have to figure out on your own, Sam,” he said, regaining his earlier cool posture.

“I don’t _know_ how to figure this out. Or what I want.” Sam pressed his fingertips together. “Or who,” he added at the end in a quiet voice.

Cas unfolded his hands, opening his mouth like he just might say something, but before he could the person moving around upstairs finished up in the bathroom and pounded downstairs. Judging by the heavy footfalls, Sam was positive it was Dean. He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, very ready for this headache of a day to be over.

“Sammy, you still-” Dean was cut short when he walked in to the kitchen to see Sam and Castiel at the table. “Here,” he growled, before turning around and stomping back to the living room.

_It must be exhausting to be so angry all the time,_ Sam thought to himself. He was about to make the remark to Cas, but his phone lit up and skittered around the table.

**Incoming call from Jess**

Sam stared at it fingers itching. Castiel put a hand on his arm shaking his shoulder gently.

“Whatever talk you’re going to have,” Cas said. “You have to have it soon.”

Sam chewed his lip just a second longer before grabbing his keys and picking up the phone, striding fast through to the front door.

“Hey, Jess, I-”


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aaand back to dean :)

Before Dean had even untangled his keys from the mess of a key rack hanging by the front door, Sam was already shooting out of it, phone to his ear. Hadn’t said a word to his older brother as he left, just slammed the door behind him. Dean found his own keys and dropped them on the table by the fireplace, before sitting down on the couch to lace up his shoes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel leaning against the doorpost to the kitchen, arms crossed.

Dean cleared his throat and focused himself on tying his laces with shaking hands. His phone, where he had matched with the guy of Tindr, was burning a hole in his pocket. _Never should have done that,_ he told himself, pulling his shoelaces so tight that he actually pulled the knot out.

_You teach five-year-olds to tie their shoes, man. Pull it together._ When he dared to turn his head just an inch, he found that Castiel was still staring him down, some sort of smug look on his face. _Bastard._

“Tying those shoes awful tight for just a short walk across the street,” Cas broke the air finally, moving around the couch to sit at the old desk.

Dean continued with his shoes, taking great satisfaction when Cas went on, a little faltered. 

“You’re coming to Jo’s tonight?”

“Are you?” Dean asked, finally looking the other man in the eye. Cas had shaved recently, and the stubble on his jaw was faint.

Castiel grinned. “Yes, I will.”

Dean nodded slowly to himself, stuck between the couch and the coat closet. If he was going out, he needed a jacket. If he was only just going across the street…

“Turns out a lot of us have nothing to do on Friday night,” Castiel’s eyes flashed, his smug expression returning.

Dean almost felt his spine turn to steel. _Whatever game this guy thought he was playing with him, he wasn’t._ “Speak for yourself,” he retorted, yanking his old leather jacket off its hanger just a little too roughly. He took a moment to compose himself after pulling the coat on, fighting the old habit to crack his neck.

When he turned around to face Castiel, Dean was pleased with himself. The guy looked genuinely…upset? Jealous? Whatever it was, it made Dean smile.

“Tell Jo I’ll make it up to her later,” Dean said, reaching roughly around Cas’ shoulder to grab his keys from the table. “And not to bother calling me. I won’t pick up.”

_Little harsh there._ Dean could almost hear Sam in the back of his mind, shaking his head. _What are you trying to do here, exactly?_ His left arm, where he had brushed against Castiel’s chest at the table, was tingling.

_Shut up, Sammy,_ Dean told the voice as he cranked his key in the Impala’s ignition.

But he faltered at the light at Mass Ave. He was supposed to be meeting Nick at some sports bar by Fenway. But sitting now in his car he tapped his steering wheel, agitated.

For some reason, Dean just couldn’t stand the thought of spending another second with the cop.

Some reason that had _absolutely_ _nothing_ to do with that pained look in those deep blue eyes.  

But after that exchange, he couldn’t go to Jo’s either. He couldn’t admit he was wrong, couldn’t face Sammy after telling him he’d had a date. Couldn’t spend an entire night in the same darkened room as Castiel.

He hated cops anyways. Spent his entire life glancing over his shoulder and keeping his face covered every time the black and white cars passed him. Sirens made him feel cagey and after being exposed to the real deal, he didn’t even think handcuffs were sexy. Every time a partner brought them out in bed, grinning shyly, Dean’s wrists ached and the phantom pain of old fractures made him dizzy. Besides, if his boyfriend found out abou-

Dean’s world did a 360. _Boyfriend._ He pulled into the first parking lot on the right, shaking his head. _Boyfriend._

He’d never had a boyfriend before. Guys he’d been on more than one date with, sure. Plenty of guys he’d fucked and a few he’d actually kissed after. He had that ‘arrangement’ with the Jewish kid in Pennsylvania. But Dean had never had a boyfriend.

It bothered him more than he liked to admit that _Nick_ was his first one.

And that settled it. He straightened his back and cracked his neck ( _Ugh, stop it man!_ He berated himself) and changed direction, taking the highway east.

Dean had pulled up Charlie’s number and nearly dialed her when he realized that she was planning on coming to Jo’s movie night. _“Hey Charlie, I’m ditching Jo and you should ditch her also.”_ That was just about the only thing he could possibly do to make his night worse. Benny was caught up in his new girlfriend, hardly letting Dean get a full sentence out before hanging up on him. His favorite bar by himself tonight, then.

It never failed him. Smack in between Bunker Hill and St. John’s Church, his favorite bar was one of those ‘historical sight’ tourist haunts. The plaque by the door went on and on about some Harvard doctor, something else about Bunker Hill, ending with a General Washington name drop and a date from the 1700’s. The type of people drawn in were almost too easy to impress and mesmerized by an Actual Boston Resident. _Did he know all the secret spots around Old Town?_ Of course he did. _Had he seen any of the ghosts in the old graveyards?_ Scout’s honor, and he had the stories to prove it.

Dean never felt more patriotic than he did laying someone out on a blanket on the grass of Bunker Hill after dark, hands in each other’s pants.

 

* * *

 

 

45 minutes after their date was supposed to have started, Nick called him. Dean quickly hit silent and flipped his phone over on the bar, screen down, but the brunette nibbling his ear and pawing him over his jeans didn't seem to have noticed.  
He got another call not much after, but the girl was on her knees now, unzipping his jeans and he leaned against the bathroom stall, thankful for his generic ringtone. He slipped his phone out of his pocket just long enough to flick the switch over to silent.  
She giggled as she pulled out his dick, squeezing gently. "Should you answer that?"  
Dean shook his head, pulling on her hair. She moaned as he pushed past her lips onto her tongue, pink lipstick smudging around the base of his cock. She used a little too much teeth, and pulled just a little too much as she swayed- Dean wasn't quite sure of it was the music or the wine  she had drunk. He should have cared, but she thanked him when he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She swallowed, too, and didn't seem too disappointed when Dean pulled her to her feet and ushered her out of the bathroom unceremoniously.

* * *

 

 

Even besides the easy hookups, Dean liked this bar. He was friends with a few of the bartenders and draft beer was cheap.

Brunette and her friends had left a while ago, and the crowd was thinning out. Dean had counted four calls and seven text messages since leaving Bobby's earlier, but was deliberately refusing to look at his phone.

A very drunk group of men in golf shirts were arguing loudly on the other side of the bar and most of the patrons seemed to be caught up in it. Dean leaned back in his chair, eyes closed. He should have banged that girl- she was so in to him.

The men in the corner were really getting on his nerves now. Clearly some group of business execs sent to Boston for a meeting or conference. The bartender didn't seem to be too happy about them, but said nothing. Several of the tourists were drawn in to the crowd, while others rushed through their last drinks and hurried out. Dean chose the latter, settling that no one young and single enough for him would be walking through the door anytime soon.

The wind had picked up while he had been in the bar, and even in his thick leather jacket he shivered. His precious Impala, for everything that made her so wonderful, had a crappy heating system. He had been meaning to get around to it forever. 

It didn’t help either that traffic was awful, some big accident shutting streets and forcing him to take a 20 minute detour back home.

The lights were still on in the Roadhouse and in Jo's top floor apartment when Dean slipped in through Bobby's front door. He had picked up a bottle of cheap whiskey on his way home and was more than a little ashamed as he tiptoed through the old house, climbing the stairs carefully after silently pulling a glass from the kitchen. _How many times have I snuck alcohol into this house?_

His room was simple. Simple bed, small desk under the window. He’d hung a few of his old vinyl records up on the wall, and there was an old faded picture of him and his mother sitting against the lamp on the night stand, but that was the extent of the decorations. When Dean had moved in last May, he insisted it was temporary. If he put too much effort in to this room, put too many things on the walls, then it would be His Room. And he couldn’t let that happen.

After pouring a rather generous glass of whiskey, he pulled out his folders of lesson plans and parent reviews and spread them out on the desk. Monday would be a nightmare- the weekend after Halloween? _Forget about it._ They’d had a class party this morning and it was almost more than Dean could handle. If there’s anything worse than kindergarteners on a normal day, it’s kindergarteners in costume, full of sugar and overly excited for more this weekend. Throw in the PTA parents bickering over the party- something about a plate of brownies with nuts, another thing about how two moms had apparently signed up to bring the same treat and each insisted that the other change last minute- and Dean had wanted nothing more than for the weekend to be over. He glared at his lesson plans binder for a moment or so before dropping it to the floor.

He cringed and downed the rest of his drink as it thumped hard against the wood panels. _So much for trying not to wake anyone up._ But a quick glance at his phone showed the time as only just after 1am. Everyone was surely still at the bar.

Looking at his phone was a mistake too. The missed calls and texts that he had been ignoring so carefully begged to be noticed. A call and two texts from Nick, a call from Sammy. The other two calls and rest of the texts had come from Jo and Charlie.  

Dean bit his lip, tapping his pen against the corner of the desk. He had parent/teacher conferences coming up this week and really, _really_ needed to get started on the reviews. But it was only Friday, and he had until Thursday to have reviews done…

**Nick: 7:30 was our time, right?**

**Nick: If you aren’t going to show up you could at least have the decency to tell me.**

The last text from Nick was sent over an hour and a half past when Dean was supposed to have met him.

**Jo: We don’t want to start the movie without you, when are you coming over?**

**Charlie: Cas says youre not coming?? You promised!! :(**

**Jo: Is Sam with you?**

**Jo: Has Sam tried to call you?**

**Jo - > Dean, Sam: Not funny anymore guys, where the hell are you**

Dean went cold. _Sam._

A call to his brother went to voicemail after a minute or so of ringing, so Dean switched numbers to call Jo.

She picked up quickly.

“Finally, it’s about fucki-”

“Did you find Sam?” Dean cut her off.

A pause on the other end of the phone. “No…”

“He said he was going to be with you!” Dean thought back to his argument with Sam earlier. He’d been so adamant about Dean coming to Jo’s, only to ditch himself?

“Well, he never came over. Cas said-”

“I don’t care what _Cas_ said,” Dean sniped. “I want to know where Sam is.”

Jo scoffed. “Cas said Sam was talking to Jessica, but we saw her leave the Roadhouse alone so I know he wasn’t with her. What about you, asshole? If you aren’t with Sam what the hell are you doing?”

“I had a _date._ Didn’t Cas tell you?” Dean said coldly.

“Cas didn’t say anything about you at all, only Sam.”

Jo said something else, but Dean didn’t quite catch it. _Cas didn’t say anything about you at all…_ Jo must have been saying goodbye, because the line went dead shortly after.

One last call to Sammy went to voicemail as well.


End file.
